


Warm In December

by verhalen



Series: Learning To Fly [3]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Multi-Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Male Character, Body Worship, Butt Plugs, Christmas Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Dinners, Female Ejaculation, Femdom, Food Kink, Found Family, Gay Sex, Het and Slash, Karaoke, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, London, M/M, Magical Realism, Modern Era, Multi, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Open Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Prophetic Visions, Reincarnation, Soren being Soren, Sören Is A Butt, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22645924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: In December 2014, Karen Swanson runs into Sören Sigurðsson, "the one who got away" - they mutually thought they'd never see each other again. They enjoy a passionate reunion, and Karen's friend Geir is interested in him as well. Can they help Sören heal his broken heart?
Relationships: Geir Strøm (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Karen Swanson (OFC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC), Nicholas Decaux (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC) [pre-shipping]
Series: Learning To Fly [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539544
Comments: 121
Kudos: 37





	1. Hello, Is It Me You're Looking For?

**Author's Note:**

> Sören Sigurðsson and Anthony Hewlett-Johnson are my OMCs. For more information, please refer to my [Transformative Works Statement](https://verhalen.dreamwidth.org/263827.html).
> 
> Nicholas Decaux is an OMC inspired by Dooku from Star Wars. I began shipping Dooku with an OC named Sev in 2016 in a (now-archive-locked) fic called [_Stuck in the Middle With You_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786491), and in 2018 wrote a modern Earth AU called [_Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306) where Sev became a human named Sören, and Dooku evolved beyond his canonical self. He looks and sounds very similar and there are similar personality traits if you squint (such as his elegance and being formal and polite to a fault), but he is also decidedly non-villainous in my multiverse and I feel it is more fair at this point to call him an OC.
> 
>  **December 2020 update:** This story has undergone some minor edits for mental health reasons connected to the dissolution of a collaborative effort with another author, where we have mutually severed ties; Karen and Geir are a modified pastiche of the OCs previously involved. The comments on this fic reflect the earlier version.

**December 2014  
** _London, England_

  
Karen patted Geir's shoulder. "How are you holding up?"  
  
Geir glanced at the clock and made a noise. His Norwegian accent thickened as he grumbled, "I just want to get out of here."  
  
Karen gave him a sympathetic smile, and her hand rested on Geir's shoulder, reassuring him. "It's another five minutes to the appointment, hopefully it won't get too complicated."  
  
They were in the waiting room of the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery; Geir had been having recurring severe headaches and random body aches, and it had finally started to interfere with his practice with the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, where he was a flautist. So here they were on the afternoon of Thursday, December fourth - Karen had taken the day off to go with Geir for moral support. Though Geir was more annoyed than worried. It was Karen who worried, enough for the both of them.  
  
But she tried to hide it. For the first time in a long time, she felt the craving for a cigarette, and even though she knew it was nerves, it still didn't help. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tin of mints, and carefully put one in her mouth.  
  
Two minutes before the appointment was scheduled, a beautiful young Indian woman in navy blue scrubs, her glossy black hair in a careful bun, stepped out into the waiting room and flashed them a dazzling smile. "Mr. Strøm?"  
  
Geir waved, and gingerly got up - he was in pain today, though he was trying to mask it. Karen followed him back, and they trailed behind the nurse, who had Geir step on a scale. Once he was weighed, she took him into a room and had him climb up on an exam table as she got out a blood pressure cuff. Karen watched as the nurse took his blood pressure and had Geir stick a thermometer under his tongue, which went off within a few seconds. As Geir winced at the blood pressure cuff tightening on his arm, the nurse asked, "How tall are you?"  
  
"193 centimeters."  
  
The nurse jotted it down. "Do you drink? Smoke?"  
  
"Drink occasionally and moderately, I do not smoke." Geir made a face.  
  
"Do you have any allergies?"  
  
"Not that I'm aware of."  
  
"Any health conditions like diabetes?" She took the cuff off his arm.  
  
"Not that I'm aware of."  
  
"And what brings you here today, Mr. Strøm?"  
  
"Frequent bad headaches, random attacks of body pain."  
  
"Can you rate your pain for me on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being no pain and 10 being the worst?"  
  
"Right now it's about a 5, but it spikes as high as a 7 or 8 when it gets bad."  
  
The nurse nodded and took more notes. "OK," she said. "Mr. Sigurðsson will be in to see you momentarily." She took off, closing the door behind her.  
  
"She seemed nice," Karen said when the nurse left. "I hope the doctor's nice."  
  
"Or at least nice to look at." Geir managed a wicked grin. "Sigurðsson... a fellow Scandinavian." Then Geir snorted. "With my luck he'll probably be like my Farfar."  
  
"Well, we're not here for eye candy."  
  
"No. We're just here for... candy." Geir eyed Karen's purse and then gave her a sad puppydog face. "Mint?"  
  
Karen laughed, opened her purse and handed Geir a mint. The mint in her mouth was a sliver now and she was still feeling that urge to smoke, so as she had her tin of mints out she put a second one in her mouth.  
  
There was a knock on the door just as Karen put the tin away. "Hello?" called a deep, smoky voice from behind the door.  
  
"Come in," Geir called back.  
  
The door opened and Karen accidentally swallowed her mint with a gasp as she saw him for the first time in five years - Sören. She would never forget their encounter one night at a pub in Reykjavik, the way he listened to her and made her laugh. She had spent countless nights since then regretting the theft of her bag which had her phone - giving him no way to get in touch with her after she gave him her contact information, and she'd lost his - and not asking for his patronymic. She'd assumed he was back in Reykjavik, still working at the hospital there, probably long since forgotten her. But his sweet brown eyes locked with hers and his mouth opened in shock.  
  
"Karen."  
  
" _Sören_?" He had his black curls up in a man bun and his sleeve tattoos were hidden by a long-sleeve black T-shirt under his light blue scrubs, she was guessing per NHS regulations, but it was otherwise unmistakably him. Karen noticed his fingers were ringless, devoid of anything like a wedding band, and immediately wanted to slap herself for checking. He still had a beard, and still had his ears pierced, two holes in each ear. Still had that sultry smoulder to him, long lashes and pouty full lips that made her weak.  
  
" _This_ is Sören?" Geir asked.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow. He looked at Karen and back at Geir - his facial expression was neutral but there was a wistful look in his eyes.  
  
"I mentioned you to him," Karen said, immediately feeling self-conscious since it had just been that one encounter, years ago, but it had been memorable enough that she'd mentioned it to Geir when they'd talked about past partners; she and Sören hadn't hooked up during her time in Reykjavik but she had regretted not inviting him back to her hotel room - and that he was too much of a gentleman to invite her to his. _The one that got away_ , she'd called him.  
  
"Well." Sören blinked slowly, then cleared his throat - still not betraying his reaction other than that. "It's, ah. It's nice to see you again, Karen. And you..." Sören turned to Geir. "You're Geir Strøm?" He was soft-spoken with an Icelandic accent, gently lilting, breathy, rolling his r's.  
  
Geir nodded.

Sören cocked his head to one side. " _Jeg ved, at disse aftaler kan gøre en person meget ængstelig. Ville du have en lettere tid, hvis vi diskuterede ting på dansk_?"

Geir gave an apologetic little smile. " _Jeg er ikke dansk, jeg er nordmann. __Jeg er fra Oslo_."

"I see. OK, well, English it is, then, otherwise you'll think I have potatoes in my mouth and I'll think every sentence of yours is a question."

Karen snorted - her surname was Swanson, her father's parents were from Sweden, she and Geir had made many Norwegian vs. Swedes jokes over the last year they'd been roommates.  
  
"So..." Sören took a few seconds to review his clipboard and then he glanced back at Karen, then Geir. Karen tried to not stare at Sören's ass as he turned to face Geir. "You've been having headaches, random body aches?"  
  
Geir nodded. "Correct."  
  
"About when did this start?" Sören put the clipboard down near the sink, took something that looked like a pen out of his pocket and tapped it; a bright light went on and he shone it in Geir's eyes. He held up his finger and moved it back and forth, watching as Geir's eyes followed the finger.  
  
"October."  
  
Sören made a tsk sound; Karen restrained a grin as she, too, had been after Geir to go see a doctor. It had been the Orchestra's insistence that finally pushed Geir to do so.

"And this is unusual for you?" Sören went on. "Is your job very physically taxing?"

"No," Geir said. "I play flute in the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House. I do work out - or did, before this got in the way of my fitness training - but playing the flute isn't the sort of thing that would make me feel like this. These symptoms just started randomly, not connected to my work or my workouts."  
  
Finally Sören turned off the instrument and put it back in his pocket. "OK," he said. "I'm going to order some tests for you, that you'll be doing today."  
  
"...Tests." Geir sounded wary.  
  
"A CAT scan and MRI."  
  
" _Oh god_ ," Geir muttered under his breath.  
  
"Oh, are you claustrophobic at all?" Sören gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm claustrophobic as hell. Unfortunately we don't have open MRI here, but if you have any musical preferences I can tell the tech what to pump in while you're in the tube... I can also administer a sedative if you think you'll need it."  
  
"I should be OK with just the music," Geir said. "Uh... classical should be relaxing enough."  
  
Sören nodded, grabbed his clipboard and wrote it down. "The CAT scan is not as bad as the MRI. It's less confining. You go in a donut but it's only part of your body, it's not loud like the MRI is... you just listen for the instructions for when to breathe. Uh... also, when they do the contrast, you're going to feel really warm and you may feel like you have to piss really bad but you won't piss your pants, it'll go away in a minute or less."  
  
"Con...trast?" Geir looked horrified.  
  
"Dye injected into you for the CAT scan," Sören said. Sören gave him a small smile. "It'll be over before you know it."  
  
Geir nodded. "I hope so."  
  
"Awwwww. Well, the MRI will take about a half-hour to forty-five minutes. The CAT scan will probably only take fifteen minutes or so. But really, the worst part is waiting here while the techs get set up."  
  
"Do you know which one we're doing first?"  
  
"MRI," Sören said.  
  
"Can she..." Geir looked at Karen, and back at Sören. "Can she come with me?"  
  
"Well, the donut and the tube is too small for two people," Sören quipped. "Sorry, I had to crack a lame joke, I can tell you're nervous."  
  
Geir rolled his eyes, but he grinned. "It's OK, and thank you."  
  
"Unfortunately, I don't make the decisions about who's allowed into the equipment rooms," Sören said, "and the techs may want her to stay outside. It doesn't hurt to ask them if she can be nearby, though."  
  
"OK, fair."  
  
"Any other questions for me?"  
  
"How long till the results come back?"  
  
"The CAT scan results won't take that long - I'll let you know before you go home, probably couple hours. The MRI... that'll take about a week to process, and we can schedule you for a followup with me to go over those results and what happens next."  
  
"OK."  
  
Sören smiled at Geir again. "You're in good hands. The techs are very nice. And you've got a nice girlfriend looking out for you -"  
  
"She's not my girlfriend," Geir quickly blurted out; Sören looked back at Karen, who nodded agreement.  
  
"We're just friends," Karen said, feeling like it was important Sören know this, even as she felt a bit stupid at how hopeful she was. _Maybe we'll get a second chance._ She couldn't shake the feeling that her path hadn't crossed with Sören's again, against all odds, for no reason.  
  
"I'm gay," Geir volunteered.  
  
Sören gave him an evil grin. "Hi Gay, I'm Sören."  
  
Geir facepalmed. "Not you too."  
  
"Where do you think I learned it from?" Karen giggled.  
  
"I'm so proud," Sören said, his face lighting up, and then he muttered " _oh shit_ " just as Karen came back with, "Hi So Proud."  
  
Finally Sören said, "If that's all, I'll be on my way... someone should be in shortly to set up the IV for the contrast, so just sit tight in here while they get ready and the techs prepare for the CAT scan and MRI." He gave a little wave. "Good luck to you with the tests, Gay - I mean, Mr. Strøm -" He grinned, eyes sparkling and crinkling, and then he was all serious and professional again; Geir grinned back. "And I'll see you in a few hours to discuss the results of the CAT scan, and we'll set up an appointment to go over your MRI results and what to do next, all right?"  
  
"Thank you," Geir said.  
  
"Yes, thank you," Karen said.  
  
Sören gave Karen a tight smile, and then he ducked out. Karen felt the urge to run out and chase after him, but she didn't want to leave Geir alone. And then a few seconds after the door closed and Karen could hear herself breathing, Geir said, "Karen, it's all right. Go on."  
  
Karen swallowed hard. She knew Geir was nervous about the tests, even though Sören's warm bedside manner had brought his anxiety down a few notches. "Are you sure?"  
  
Geir nodded vehemently and made a shoving gesture.  
  
Karen flew out of her seat and opened the door just as she saw Sören's stride reaching the end of the hall. Again, her gaze wandered to his firm, magnificent ass. She cleared her throat, heart racing, and smoothed her cashmere sweater and wool skirt before she called out, "Sören! Wait!"  
  
Sören stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. Karen rushed down the hall and Sören slowly turned as he heard her footfall, and Karen called out again, "Sören. _Sören_." When Sören faced her, and folded his arms with an "I'm waiting" look on his face - he looked slightly exasperated - Karen said, "Do you have a minute?"  
  
"I have a minute," Sören said, nodding. "But not too long, I'm on the clock." He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then looked back at Karen. "What's up?"  
  
"Well, do you have a break, later?"  
  
Sören laughed - it was not a pleasant laugh - and then he gave Karen a stern look. His eyes were sad. Karen's heart began to sink. Sören rubbed his beard nervously and said, "Karen, you don't have to pretend to be nice to me just because you ran into me here. I got the hint, OK? You don't need to make yourself uncomfortable around me just because Geir's my patient. I'm all professional here, I'm not a creeper." With that, Sören began to turn around again.  
  
Now Karen's heart really sank, and she realized suddenly how it looked - that he hadn't been able to reach her after that night, and she'd never gotten in touch with him. _And he probably thinks I told Geir something negative._ "Oh god, Sören." Her face went hot as tears stung her eyes, her mouth suddenly dry. "You think I ghosted you, don't you?"  
  
Sören gave a resigned half-shrug, continuing to walk on.  
  
"My bag got stolen, Sören. I lost my phone. I lost your contact info..."  
  
Sören stopped walking. He stood there, and Karen saw him tremble ever so slightly. She went to him, and before she could put her arms around him he turned back around. He was valiantly trying to keep composed - he was still on the clock - but his eyes were too bright, and his jaw quivered just a little. "That's..." He took a deep breath. "That's why your phone got disconnected?"  
  
Karen nodded. "I had to get a new phone after everything and god, Sören... I'm so sorry." Karen exhaled sharply. "Geir knows about you not because I had a 'creepy guy' horror story, but because we had hit it off so well and I told him about you..." Her voice trailed off before she could continue with, _When he asked if there was ever anyone special_. Here he was, like he'd heard her heart cry out for him and had finally flown back to her.  
  
"So it wasn't just me, who felt that... spark with us." Sören's brown eyes were so warm.  
  
"No, Sören, it wasn't." Karen thought about taking his hands, but she knew that was probably a no-go with him working. "And... I didn't have your patronymic but Geir tried to look for you anyway... doctors named Sören in Iceland..."  
  
"Oh _god_ , Karen. I've been in London since mid-2010. The NHS is sponsoring my visa, though I'm going to be applying for British citizenship next year."  
  
"Oh my god." Karen facepalmed. He'd been in London all this time and she hadn't known... "Where in London do you live?"  
  
"At the moment, Holborn. I was in Kingston before that." Sören's brow furrowed slightly, as if that was a sore subject for him.  
  
"Holborn? You must be right near where I used to live... my god, Sören..." Karen felt chills down her spine. The feeling that their paths hadn't crossed by accident now felt like a certainty, like this was fated, somehow.  
  
"Wow. Well." Sören laughed and now this was a pleasant laugh, genuine. "What are the odds."  
  
"Yeah." Karen sighed. "What are the odds."  
  
"Well... it's good seeing you." Sören smiled. "You look... really nice." Then he frowned. "Er, sorry if that's unwelcome -"  
  
"No Sören, it's... very welcome." Karen twirled a strand of platinum blonde hair around her finger and looked at the clock, feeling deliciously flustered at the admiration but also nervous about keeping Sören on his shift, and then Sören looked at it too, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Um, we should catch up."  
  
"We should." Sören nodded.  
  
"When are you off work?"  
  
"Uh..." Sören laughed softly. "I've been here since eleven PM last night so I was supposed to be home a couple hours ago but..."  
  
"Oh. Oh god." She felt for him, with such a long shift.  
  
"So probably after Geir's CAT scan results come in they'll let me go home, but then I just need to crash."  
  
"I see." Logically Karen understood that wasn't a lie - Sören was now on his fourteenth hour of work - but she still felt like he was politely brushing her off. Of course she couldn't expect that he would be single after all this time, or even interested...  
  
"But..." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Are you available Sunday afternoon? We could grab coffee or something before I work the evening shift."  
  
"I'd like that a lot, Sören." "Like" was an understatement; Karen could have screamed with joy.  
  
"OK." Sören looked at the clock again. "Let me go bother my next patient... and then when I come back to talk with Geir about his CAT scan in roughly two hours, we can plan?" Sören gave her a shy, hopeful little smile.  
  
"That works for me."  
  
Karen tried to be dignified as she walked back to the room where Geir was waiting, but as soon as she got in she did a little happy dance, and Geir laughed.  
  
"So do you have a date?" Geir asked.  
  
"Not quite. We're... doing coffee Sunday, but he had to dash off to handle his next patient so we'll discuss the details of time and place when he comes round with your CAT scan results."  
  
"Ugh." Geir looked at the clock and made a face. "I just want to get these tests done already. The IV person hasn't come yet."  
  
"Sören's been working since eleven o'clock last night. I guess they're somewhat short-staffed."  
  
Geir gave her an incredulous look. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Karen sat back down and tried to not fidget, but she felt giddy. And then Geir noticed and grinned at her, chuckling. "I can see why he'd leave an impression. He's _hot._ "  
  
"And that accent. His accent isn't quite as strong as it was in Reykjavik - he's been in London since 2010, he told me just now - but yes, I could listen to him for hours." Karen sighed a little.  
  
"Well, good." Geir nodded. "I'm glad you finally found him."  
  
In honor of Sören, Karen had to. "Hi Glad You Finally Found Him -"  
  
"Oh _god._ " Geir clenched his fists and grit his teeth in exaggerated, theatric annoyance. "When I actually look _forward_ to an MRI to get me away from the lame jokes..."  
  
"You love it."  
  
"Yeah, I do." Geir reached out, took her hand and squeezed it. "I love you." They were like siblings, almost, but closer. A bond of the heart, not blood.  
  
"I love you too."


	2. It's Oh So Quiet

It was three PM on a Sunday afternoon; Sören had to go in to work that evening at six, and Karen had agreed to meet him in Holborn at a cafe near his flat, so he could maximize their face time without having to go far to get changed for work.  
  
The cafe was the same one where Sören had met Aurelio Fiorella recently to go over terms of their "date" following the charity auction... the "date" that had turned into an entire weekend, and then over and done. But it had been Sören's tentative first steps back into the world of dating and sex after his engagement ended. And this was also the same cafe where Sören had run into his ex recently as well. Sören kept looking around, hoping he wasn't going to see Anthony here again, but if Anthony's habits were still the same he was probably in Blackheath right now.  
  
 _Don't think of him._ Sören swallowed hard.  
  
Sören had arrived a little early, though he'd spent enough time getting ready that there was a moment when he worried he'd be late. After fussing over what to wear, he'd finally decided on the black Joy Division T-shirt that he'd worn the night he'd met Karen back in 2009, and a pair of faded jeans. He'd worn his black leather bomber on the walk over, and it was now draped on the back of his chair.  
  
Sören kept checking his phone, feeling nervous - worried that Karen was going to stand him up. He did know now that he hadn't in fact been ghosted when they fell out of touch in 2009, but he still felt apprehensive. Even more than worrying that she wouldn't show up, he was worried that she would and she'd decide that spark between them had been a fluke.  
  
Or that it hadn't, but eventually things would get all fucked up somehow.  
  
 _Stop worrying,_ Sören told himself.  
  
And then, there she was, wearing a trilby and a belted trenchcoat, looking like an old-fashioned gangster, but it was a cute look for her. Sören couldn't help smiling as she walked in, and stood up, waving her over. Karen made a beeline, hurrying, and Sören found himself pulling a chair out. Then he said, "Er, sorry, I hope that wasn't sexist -"  
  
"It was polite. Thank you." Karen took off her coat and hat. She was wearing a light blue cashmere sweater that brought out the blue in her eyes, with indigo jeans. Her waves of platinum blonde hair hung loose a few inches past her shoulders, gleaming a soft gold in the light. Sören resisted the urge to touch it.  
  
Then Karen noticed the Joy Division shirt and her face lit up. Sören grinned back at her; her smile dazzled him.  
  
"I love that you wore that again," Karen said.  
  
"I had to." Sören nodded. He glanced up over at the queue at the counter, which had finally shortened. "What would you like? I'll treat you."  
  
"A hot chocolate and one of the toffee brownies, and thank you."  
  
Sören ordered and a few minutes later came back with a tray - hot chocolate and the toffee brownie for Karen, and a hazelnut espresso with whipped cream for himself. They drank in silence for a moment and then Sören said, "So, er. Thank you for meeting me here."  
  
"You're welcome." Karen smiled at him fondly. "Thank _you_ for giving us a second chance to reconnect. I'm really sorry about what happened with my phone -"  
  
Sören waved his hand. "No need to keep apologizing." He leaned back in his seat. "So, what have you been up to all this time? Are you still practicing law?"  
  
"I am not, actually." Karen sipped her hot chocolate and paused, looking as if she were choosing her words carefully. Still a lawyer, even when not a lawyer - Sören recognized that look well, Anthony was like that when asked difficult questions. Finally Kraren said, "I stopped in 2013. I've been working at the Royal Opera House at the gift shop. In September I started studying for a postgraduate degree in the evenings... so I can become a librarian."  
  
"Burnout?"  
  
"Yeah." Karen nodded. "My job was very stressful, it was making me ill."  
  
"Law is a difficult profession," Sören said, thinking of how chronically stressed out Anthony had been, and likely still was. Sören had a brief glimmer of worry for him, wherever he was, and hated himself for still caring. "So there's no judgment there. It's important to take care of yourself. I hope you're happier now?"  
  
"Much happier." Karen smiled again. "Geir is my flatmate, we met via Craigslist when I was looking for a new place to live since you know London is very expensive. Like he told you, he plays flute for the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House... the Orchestra is sponsoring his visa."  
  
"Nice." Sören thought about those beautiful blue eyes, the chiseled face, the mischievous grin, handsome with a short black fauxhawk and a black goatee. He thought about Geir saying he worked out, and what Geir's body must look like undressed, from all that conditioning. Sören's cheeks flushed, and he tried to push that thought out of his mind. But now that Sören's mind had gone there, he wondered about Karen, too. He tried not to look at her chest, and made himself look at her pretty blue eyes, that sweet face. "So Geir is the gay best friend?"  
  
Karen nodded with a gigglesnort. "Yes. He's very dear. I would have settled for just being able to tolerate the roommate but we... clicked. Not dissimilar to how you and I clicked that night in Reykjavik."  
  
Sören gave a wistful little sigh, thinking of how things would have been different if he'd invited Karen back to his hotel room in 2009, went away with her for a few days.  
  
Karen seemed to detect the wistfulness and gave him a sad look. She picked her hot chocolate back up and resumed drinking.  
  
Sören tried to not make it all about him - and he was genuinely happy for Karen, if she was happy. She didn't look so rail-thin and tired out now, which made her even lovelier than the last time he'd seen her. "I'm glad things have been going well for you. And that you have Geir. Friends are important to have."  
  
"I hope you have someone in your life as good for you as Geir is for me," Karen said.  
  
Sören snorted and sipped his coffee. "I don't have friends. I'm a neurosurgeon."  
  
Karen looked a little taken aback, and Sören realized how that came across, not wanting her to feel pushed away. He rubbed his beard nervously and said, "Oh, don't get me wrong. It gets lonely, I wish I had... supportive people... in my life. But I tend to work sixty to seventy hours a week most of the time and that's not exactly conducive to a social life."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Karen said.  
  
Sören nodded. "But... our paths did cross again."  
  
"They did." Their eyes met.  
  
Sören and Karen worked some more on their respective beverages, and then Karen took a nibble of her brownie. The look of rapture on her face made Sören wonder what she looked like when she was having an orgasm. His face burned again.  
  
Karen hit another nerve. "So are you..." She took a deep breath and looked at his hands, ringless. "Single?" Her lips quirked. "I thought you probably settled down with some nice doctor in Reykjavik..."  
  
Sören almost spat his coffee. He laughed bitterly. "Ha ha no." He quickly sobered. "I was engaged to be married, though."  
  
"Was." Karen drew out the word, weighting it. "So what happened? Was she a doctor?"  
  
"He was a barrister, actually. Here in London, not Iceland. And, well." Sören pursed his lips. He didn't want to get into it, not wanting to be a downer, but here it was and he felt it was better to be honest so she could make an accurate assessment as far as if she wanted to dive deeper between his crazy hours and his baggage. "Weeks before the wedding, he cheated."  
  
"Oh my god Sören, I'm sorry." Karen's face fell.  
  
"Jæja, so am I." It still hurt, over a year later.  
  
"So you said... he..."  
  
"I swing both ways," Sören said. There had been no reason for him to get into it that night they'd met in Reykjavik - he'd mostly listened, while she talked. But that, too, was better to get out in the open.  
  
"I see." Karen nodded. She sipped her hot cocoa and Sören observed the flush in her cheeks; she bit her lip before she took another bite of her brownie. Sören wondered if she was turned on.  
  
"And that was in October 2013. I've been single since then," Sören said. "There was a date, recently, but it didn't go anywhere."  
  
"I'm single." Their eyes met again.  
  
It came out before Sören could stop himself. "Hi Single, I'm Sören."  
  
Karen spluttered into her cocoa. "Dammit, Sören..."  
  
"Sorry." Sören wasn't, really. He liked making her laugh, and they needed a moment of levity.  
  
"Do you still draw?" Karen asked.  
  
Sören was pleased she remembered that and nodded. "I had a bit of a dry spell since the breakup, but it's been coming back, slowly." Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls. "Actually, I was making a lot of art when we..." He couldn't speak the name yet. "Were together, and he encouraged me to do a couple art shows." It was still surreal that the billionaire Aurelio Fiorella had some prints of his art hanging up at his flat in Chelsea, bought via an agent at one of those shows. But the art shows were otherwise painful to think about, another reminder of Anthony... _Anthony's fucking friends, stealing my spotlight with their ridiculous fucking superficial garbage._ Sören shoved that memory away, trying not to clench his fists.  
  
"Oh, I'd love to see your art sometime."  
  
That implied Karen wanted to get together again. "I'd love to show you sometime."  
  
The words hung there and then there was an awkward silence, each of them considering. Karen nibbled on her brownie, finishing it. But before they could make a decision on when to see each other again - and where this might be going - Sören felt a bit weird just hanging about in the cafe. "You want to go for a walk?" They were right near several parks.  
  
"OK, sure."  
  
Though it was cool and crisp it was also a clear day; the air had that biting promise of snow, which Sören always found refreshing, a reminder of home. They walked to Brunswick Square, not far from National, _and not far from Lincoln's Inn,_ Sören thought bitterly, but it was a Sunday after all. And though it was a Sunday afternoon the park wasn't busy, which was nice. There was a strange, melancholy beauty with the bare trees, soon enough would be crowned in icicles but for now were stark. The days got dark early at this time of year, and already the air had that old gold tinge to it, the first glimmer of golden sunset in the thick grey-blue clouds.  
  
"Sometimes I like to walk in one of the parks on my break," Sören said.  
  
"There's a lot of pretty parks near National," Karen said.  
  
"It's very peaceful. I almost wish I'd brought my tablet today to sketch this..." Sören gestured around. "But I'd also feel rude, like I was ignoring you." Sören closed his eyes, pushing away the memory of those final moments with Anthony, where he'd finally admitted he was taking it personally that Sören was escaping more into art to cope with his insane work schedule. And of course, then Sören's art had dried up altogether, when it was over...  
  
"Oh I wouldn't find it rude. I'd love to watch you create."  
  
"I'd like to draw or paint you," Sören found himself saying, and then he wished he hadn't, not wanting to come off as creepy.  
  
But Karen's face lit up again, and her cheeks turned pink. "I'd like that too. I'd be honored."  
  
They continued walking. The gold washed into more of the sky; Karen's hair stirred in the breeze. "You're not cold at all?" Karen asked, looking at Sören in his leather bomber compared to her trench.  
  
"I'm from Iceland."  
  
Karen laughed at that.  
  
Then Sören shrugged. "I don't get cold easily, I usually don't break out the heavier winter gear until later in the month." He felt self-conscious all of a sudden. "Oh god, I hope this isn't too cold for you -"  
  
"No Sören, it's fine."  
  
They sat and spent a few minutes in amicable silence, watching the light continue to change. Sören felt like he'd been too much of a downer today - _I don't have friends, my ex cheated on me_ \- and he needed something to lighten the mood. He saw the children's playground, currently empty and with no kids in sight, and on impulse, he got up and hurried over to it like a big kid. Karen watched as he climbed up to the top of the slide, and she laughed as he slid down with a "Wheeeeeeee."  
  
Sören couldn't resist. "Your turn."  
  
Karen gave him a look, but then she gave him a cheesy grin, laughing madly, and went over to the slide. Sören stood a couple feet away and watched Karen climb to the top and then slide down, hands in the air, giggling.  
  
Sören climbed back up, with Karen behind him, and they went down the slide together. And again. Then Sören came to the swing set, and after an assessment that it could support the weight of an average adult, he sat on one of the swings and kicked up into the air, kicking the ground to go higher.  
  
"You want a push?" Karen asked.  
  
It came out before Sören could stop himself. "Push it real good."  
  
Sören immediately facepalmed, wishing that hadn't been his brain's first response, not wanting to make Karen uncomfortable, but she howled and pushed him hard. And then harder. She stepped back as Sören soared, as high as he could go. After a few swings back and forth the swing lost some momentum and Karen pushed him again. "Wheeeeeeee," Sören yelled.  
  
There was now a wizened, elderly gentleman walking a terrier, giving them a disapproving glance. "Aren't you too old for this nonsense?"  
  
"Your mum," Sören blurted out.  
  
"Well, I never." The man walked away.  
  
Karen and Sören lost it, giggling, and when the man stopped to give them another evil look, Karen got on the swing beside Sören and began pumping her legs. Sören grinned at her - it was nice to see her playing, too - and Karen grinned back. They swung together for a little while, Sören sailing backwards as Karen pushed forwards, Sören flying ahead as Karen swooped behind. The sunset burned in the sky, fiery oranges and pinks, and it felt like a fire was lighting in Sören... like he had come here not just to get some air, but to quietly let go, and accept whatever was about to come next.  
  
The full moon was also out, burnished red-gold by the setting sun. Sören looked at Karen in the sunset moon, the liminal time of fall becoming winter, and burned the perfect image into his mind's eye, for a future painting. _Invincible Summer,_ Sören thought to himself.  
  
They stopped swinging as the light faded and the sky glowed a deep blue. A speck of white floated on the wind, and then another, and another.  
  
"It's snow," Karen said.  
  
Without thinking, the ancient one-hit wonder came to him, unbidden. " _Informer, ya' no say daddy me Snow me I go blame, a licky boom boom down,_ " Sören sang.  
  
It took Karen a moment and then she cracked up. "Goddammit, Sören, that was an earworm I didn't need. And quite a blast from the past."  
  
"My useless superpower is memorizing old-school rap by heart," Sören said, taking a self-deprecating bow.  
  
"You must be a lot of fun at karaoke."  
  
Sören snickered. "I don't... karaoke."  
  
"Well, we'll have to change that." Karen smirked. "When's the next night you have off?"  
  
And there it was. Karaoke normally wasn't something Sören would agree to, but then neither was a charity bachelor auction and he'd done that last month. This was a chance to see Karen again. "Friday," Sören said. "I have to go in at seven the next morning, but..."  
  
"But you've got Friday free?"  
  
"As of four PM." Sören nodded. His heart beat a little faster.  
  
"As it happens, I've got Friday available."  
  
"So you want to do karaoke?"  
  
Karen nodded. "If you don't mind. Dinner, karaoke..."  
  
"No, that could be nice. How does seven sound? That gives me time to freshen up and decompress a little from my shift."  
  
"Seven sounds good."  
  
"I don't drive and I'm guessing you don't either, so do you want to meet me at a restaurant?"  
  
"Sure." Karen suggested a pub between Holborn and Covent Garden, that had open mic starting at eight PM, and showed him directions on her phone. "And maybe after dinner you could show me some of your art?"  
  
"Jæja. I live in a studio here in Holborn. It's not exciting, but..."  
  
Karen pursed her lips. "I still can't believe you're not far from where I used to live."  
  
"When did you leave Holborn, again?"  
  
"Late 2013."  
  
"That was just as I was leaving Kingston. You were going while I was coming."  
  
"Well, now I'm coming again."

Sören's mind immediately went in the gutter, and from the sparkle in Karen's eyes and the way her cheeks flushed it was clear hers was there too, and Sören wondered if that had been intentional on her part. Sören cleared his throat, and Karen played with a stray strand of hair that had blown into her face.  
  
"OK, so we'll, ah, do Friday. It's a date." And then Sören had to make sure. "It's a date?"  
  
"Yes, Sören. If you want it to be." Karen took a deep breath. "I don't want you to feel pressured if you're not ready -"  
  
"No... I... I'm ready." Sören's heart raced a little and his stomach began turning cartwheels. He felt like turning cartwheels too.  
  
Karen grinned. "Hi Ready, I'm Karen."  
  
Sören gave her a look, then he laughed, and on impulse he leaned in and kissed her cheek, caught up in the moment. Then he pulled away, face burning, hoping he hadn't crossed a line. "Er."  
  
Karen grabbed him and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips parted and their tongues met, swirling, licking, teasing. Sören's cock leapt to attention and he moaned into the kiss. So did Karen, running her fingers through his curls before she wrapped her arms around him, rocking with him in the slow, sensual rhythm of the kiss.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing hard, and Sören looked into her eyes.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that for five years," Karen husked.  
  
"Shit. I wish I didn't have to work tonight," Sören said.  
  
"Me too. But I get it." Karen played with a lock of his curls.  
  
Then another snowflake fell, on the tip of Karen's nose. Sören kissed it, and Karen giggled. Sören took Karen's gloved hands in his bare hands and said softly, "Make a wish," and opened her hands. She caught a snowflake, and then he caught one with his tongue, making her laugh again - and blush. Though Sören wasn't superstitious at all - it was one of the memories he had of his mamma, when the snow would fall in Akureyri - it felt right, somehow, and Sören found himself wishing: _Please let this work out._  
  
Sören checked the time and grumbled. "Unfortunately, I have to start getting ready for work."  
  
"OK. Do you want me to walk you to your flat -"  
  
"If I let you do that, I may be tempted to... not go to work." Sören wished he hadn't said that aloud, again, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, but Karen just laughed.  
  
"All right. Then Friday."  
  
"Friday." Sören gave her what was meant to be a quick hug, and they ended up kissing again. As their tongues played together, Sören thought about what it would be like to kiss her all over, and especially down...  
  
 _OK, chill._ Sören didn't want to get horny before work, more than he already was.  
  
But it had felt like ages since he'd been horny and flustered for someone who wasn't Anthony - Aurelio Fiorella didn't quite count, as that had been over so quickly and still felt surreal; Sören would have thought he dreamt the whole thing except Colin and Ed kept making cracks about "the bloke who spent five million quid to go on a date with Sören Bloody Sigurðsson."  
  
And Sören had missed that devil-may-care feeling, a spring in his step as he arrived at National that evening. He was afraid to get his hopes too high, and yet, the high was a nice feeling. It had been too long, and Sören was feeling ready to fly.


	3. Crazy Little Thing Called Love

"Well, how do I look?"  
  
Karen gave a twirl, with Geir laying on his stomach, his head at the foot of his bed. He propped himself up on one elbow and studied her thoughtfully.  
  
Karen was wearing a royal blue camisole under a black cashmere cardigan, and a black knee-length wool skirt. Black usually wasn't her color - she'd had more than enough of wearing black suits in her legal days - but it was classic, went with everything, and she wanted to look nice for her date. The camisole under the open cardigan showed cleavage without being too immodest. She wore part of her platinum blonde hair in a chignon with the rest hanging loose; tanzanite teardrops sparkled in her ears and she wore a teardrop-shaped tanzanite solitaire pendant that fell between her breasts.  
  
"You look faaaaaaaaaaabulous, darling," Geir said, making Karen giggle.  
  
"Thank you." Karen grinned. "I feel fabulous." She still had days of struggling with her body image - not nearly as much as when she was practicing law, but it was hard to get out of that mindset. Tonight she actually felt sexy; she was wearing lacy red lingerie under her clothes and everything.  
  
"You're very lucky." Geir smiled. With a chuckle he said, "I almost feel bad that there was nothing abnormal with my MRI, now I don't have an excuse to ogle that dreamy doctor."  
  
Karen laughed. "If things go well tonight he'll probably be visiting every so often and you'll get chances to ogle." Then she came over and patted Geir, tousling his hair. "For what it's worth, I'm glad the CAT scan and MRI didn't show anything."  
  
Geir nodded. "He said he thinks it might be psychosomatic - caused by stress - and gave me referral to a counselor." Geir made a face.  
  
"Well, that's his job." _And Sören probably knows stress when he sees it._ Karen thought of Sören working sixty to seventy hours a week, and then of Sören telling her he'd almost married a barrister; Karen remembered how brittle she was during her days as a lawyer. She wondered briefly if Sören had taken up with anyone she knew.  
  
"It is." Geir nodded. "I'm still thinking on the counselor. I... you know." Geir shrugged. "I don't exactly like talking to strangers about my past."  
  
"I know. But they do more than that, they might have... stress management techniques... or something." Karen had never been to see a counselor herself, even though she knew by rights she should have, with her own run-in with catastrophic stress making her ill. It felt like ages ago now. Karen looked at the time. "Oh shit, I better be off."  
  
"OK." Karen got up to give her a hug. "Have fun."  
  
"You too."  
  
"Oh yeah, Nemo and I will be over here having a wild party." Geir snickered; Nemo was Karen's betta fish.  
  
"Just clean up after yourselves," Karen teased, and gave him a squeeze. Then she headed out.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Karen was first to arrive, a little early. She waited nervously, sipping ice water and looking at the menu, glancing around every so often to see if she spotted Sören. Finally there he was, making his way over to her in his leather bomber, with a white ruffly blouse like a pirate, and leather pants. He looked delicious, and Karen felt that flutter in her stomach, her mouth dry. She got up to give Sören a hug, and just that brief instant of feeling his body against hers made her nipples harden, made her twinge in a way she hadn't felt in ages.  
  
"Hi," Sören said, kissing Karen's cheek. He took a step back and looked her up and down. "Wow, you look... gorgeous."  
  
"So do you." Karen smiled.  
  
Sören smiled back, that radiant smile that seemed to light up the whole room. Sören took a seat and picked up a menu; every now and again he looked up from the menu and across at her and smiled again, and Karen's heart skipped a beat.  
  
"How's your week been?" Sören asked her.  
  
"Good. Work is going well, classes are going well... and it's a relief that Geir is OK, or at least as far as you were able to tell with the CAT scan and MRI."  
  
Sören nodded. "I told him, and you probably already know this, it could be stress." Sören made a face. "When I first broke up with my ex and I was newly on my own again, I wasn't sleeping well and it was throwing my body into cramps. I got a charley horse one day so bad I had to go home early."  
  
"That's rough." Karen sipped her ice water, feeling for him. "Geir's in a lot of pain when the attacks come on. He says it's like being lashed by a whip."  
  
"I wish there was something I could do. The only thing I can really suggest is self-care, maybe keeping a diary and making a note of what happens on days when the attacks start - what he ate, how many hours he slept, what was going on that day, anything different from his usual routine, anything or anyone in particular stressing him out."  
  
"I'll let him know. Or you can tell him yourself, if, well." Karen felt like she was being a bit bold in offering this considering it was still their first date. "If you start coming round." Karen sipped more ice water. "I'd like to have you over for dinner sometime, cook for you."  
  
"Oh Karen, I'd like that." Sören's face lit up again. "It's been a really long time since I've had a proper home-cooked meal. I sometimes throw stuff together if I've got time and energy but, you know."  
  
Karen felt a pang. "Oh Sören, if I'd known that I would have offered to have you come over tonight instead of us going to a restaurant."  
  
"It's OK. And besides, we came to do karaoke." Sören looked at the time, then he looked back at the menu.  
  
Karen ordered a plate of salmon with roasted vegetables, and Sören had a steak and seafood platter with a baked potato. "Do you want to do separate checks, or would you like me to pay? I don't mind paying," Sören said.  
  
Karen didn't want to take advantage. "Separate checks is OK with me."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"This time." Karen smiled. "Maybe you can treat next time, and then I'll treat after that."  
  
"You're on, then."  
  
As they waited for their food, Karen asked him, "How was _your_ week?"  
  
Sören made a noise, and laughed softly. "Busy. I'm very glad to have the night off."  
  
"Well, I appreciate you coming out on your night off, I don't know what you do in your free time, if you would have had plans -"  
  
Sören snorted. "No, I would have gone home and zoned out to the TV, maybe at best did some drawing." He shrugged and sipped his ginger ale. "I'd rather be here." Their eyes met.  
  
Karen felt that flutter again, and bit her lip.  
  
When their food got there, Sören gave her a few bites of steak in exchange for a piece of her salmon. They talked about Karen's job at the Royal Opera House, her classes, and then, inevitably, what had led up to that change of direction - the burnout. The illness, the despair. Answering the ad on Craigslist, meeting Geir, clicking with him right away... clicking like a light going on after a long darkness. The little ways Geir brightened her life, right down to having gotten her a betta fish named Nemo. "Saying he found Nemo," she chuckled.  
  
Sören squeaked at this. "Fishie!"  
  
Karen laughed - he was so adorable.  
  
Sören clapped excitedly, like a big kid. "Do you have pictures of your fishie? I wanna seeeeee."  
  
Karen pulled out her phone and showed Sören pictures of Nemo in his tank. "He has to be alone, betta fish can be, well, violent with other betta fish."  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "He looks happy enough though, all that space to himself."  
  
"You could come over and see him sometime." Karen sipped her drink. "Maybe tonight after dinner?"  
  
"We could do that, or..." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Did you want to see my art?"  
  
" _Yes._ " That came out so loudly that one of the people at a nearby table turned around and looked at her. Karen clapped her hand over her mouth, face on fire. Sören laughed, also blushing, and then Karen said, more softly, "Yes, I would love to see your art."  
  
"OK. Portfolio's at home. I, ah. I cleaned up the place a bit, in case I was having company." Sören gave a nervous little laugh. "I never have company. You'd be the first since I moved there in 2013."  
  
Karen felt a pang again. She resisted the urge to get up and take him into her arms. "Well, I'm honored. And yes, we can go from here to your place to look at the portfolio - you can meet Nemo next time?"  
  
"Yes, I'd like that." Their eyes met, and held.  
  
Already there was a next time. Karen grinned as she sipped her drink.  
  
When they were finished with their meal, Sören looked at the dessert menu. Karen did too. "Ohhhh, look at that." Sören pointed on the menu to a large banana split on top of a chocolate brownie, made for two people. "You want to split that?"  
  
He clearly didn't care about the calories involved, wasn't pushing her to watch her figure. That was a good sign. Karen smiled. "Yes, let's do that."  
  
The brownie banana split was delicious, the brownie still meltingly warm underneath the ice cream, topped with a generous portion of bananas as well as nuts and fudge sauce and caramel sauce and plenty of whipped cream. As delicious was watching Sören wrap his lips around the spoon - Karen wondered what he looked like with a cock in his mouth, and felt that twinge again. When Sören licked the spoon, she wondered about other oral skills of his.  
  
 _It's the first date. You can't sleep with someone on the first date,_ a voice warned her, similar to her mother's.  
  
 _Bloody hell I can't. It's 2014, not the Dark Ages._ Something told Karen that Sören wasn't going to be the type to think she was "loose" if they went there on the first date, or that he would even judge someone for being "loose".  
  
It was so very unlike her, feeling like this, but she couldn't deny that she wanted him, and had been wanting him since that night they met in 2009. She'd had so many regrets about not asking him to her hotel room later, and she'd brought herself to climax more than once thinking about what would have happened if she did. Now he was right here, sitting across from her, practically making love to a spoon, and the worst part was Karen got the sense it was unintentional, that he was just sensual naturally, and not trying to seduce her.  
  
Yet.  
  
Karaoke was starting. Since it was December twelfth, with Christmas two weeks away, the first couple of people sang Christmas songs - "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" and "Blue Christmas". The man who sang "Blue Christmas" stayed up on the mic for a second song, butchering "We Are the Champions" by Queen. It was bad enough to hear him murder Elvis, but his off-key rendition of Queen was a special kind of hell, and Sören made faces.  
  
"That's not how you do Freddie Mercury." Sören folded his arms.  
  
Then he finally got up with a huff, and Karen watched Sören go over to the DJ, who nodded. When the man destroying "We are the Champions" was done, Sören snatched the mic away and gave the man a filthy look as he went back over to his cheering friends and a woman fawning over his awful performance. Sören cleared his throat into the microphone and tapped it, creating horrid feedback, till the DJ adjusted some controls. Then the DJ looked at Sören and nodded, who nodded back.  
  
Karen recognized the opening guitar notes, and then Sören began to sing:  
  
 _This thing called love  
I just can't handle it  
This thing called love  
I must get round to it  
I ain't ready  
Crazy little thing called love  
  
This thing (this thing) called love (called love)  
It cries (like a baby) in a cradle all night  
It swings (ooh, ooh), it jives (ooh, ooh)  
It shakes all over like a jelly fish,  
I kinda like it  
Crazy little thing called love_  
  
Sören had the right range to sing along with Freddie Mercury, and his Icelandic accent was only just noticeable when he sang - he had a bluesy, smoky tenor singing voice that would be perfect as a "blue-eyed soul" R&B singer if he had gone into music instead of medicine. Karen found herself clapping along, swaying in her seat; Sören looked right at her and began dancing as he sang, working his ass and his hips.  
  
 _There goes my baby  
She knows how to rock-n-roll  
She drives me crazy  
She gives me hot and cold fever  
She leaves me in a cool, cool sweat_  
  
The thought of making Sören all sweaty did things to Karen. She giggled, face on fire.  
  
 _I gotta be cool, relax, get hip  
Get on my tracks  
Take a back seat, hitch-hike  
And take a long ride on my motorbike  
Until I'm ready  
Crazy little thing called love_  
  
When Sören was finished, Karen stood up and applauded wildly. Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip as their eyes met, and heat flooded Karen again. Then Sören turned back to the DJ and stayed up for a second song; this time it was Mariah Carey.  
  
 _I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas is you, yeah.  
  
I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
And I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
  
I don't need to hang my stocking  
There upon the fireplace  
Santa Claus won't make me happy  
With a toy on Christmas Day  
  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas is you  
You, baby  
_  
  
Karen's breath hitched. Their eyes locked again. Yes, it was only the first date, but this felt _right_.  
  
Sören's voice got more earnest, more passionate, really putting his heart into it.  
  
 _Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas  
I won't even wish for snow  
And I'm just gonna keep on waiting  
Underneath the mistletoe  
  
I won't make a list and send it  
To the North Pole for Saint Nick  
I won't even stay awake to  
Hear those magic reindeer click  
  
'Cause I just want you here tonight  
Holding on to me so tight  
What more can I do?  
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you  
You, baby_  
  
When the song was over, Karen felt the urge to run to him, grab him and kiss him, but didn't want to make a scene in front of all these people. But Sören was blushing, his eyes twinkling, and Karen didn't care so much about getting up on the mic herself now. "Check please," Karen yelled, flagging down the waiter.  
  
On their way out of the restaurant, Sören stopped in his tracks and looked up.  
  
"What is it?" Karen asked.  
  
Sören pointed, and Karen saw a mistletoe. She giggled, blushing fiercely, and then she stopped laughing as Sören pulled her close. Karen kissed him hungrily, no longer caring about not making a scene. Sören leaned up against the doorframe, moaning a little as their tongues played together and Karen found herself running her hands down his shirt, wishing it was over his bare chest.  
  
The restaurant was about a twenty-minute walk from where Sören lived, and they opted to walk there instead of taking public transportation. There was something very romantic about walking in the night, with snow softly falling, huddled close together. The chill didn't even bother Karen; Sören was warm, like a living furnace. Every now and again Sören looked over his shoulder and smiled at her, and Karen smiled back. When they were a block away Sören paused and pointed up ahead. "It's there, in that complex." He kissed Karen's cheek.  
  
Sören lived on the second floor of a high-rise, and opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator. "I get claustrophobic," he explained.  
  
"Ah, OK."  
  
Sören lived in a one-bedroom that was a bit more upscale than where she'd been living in Holborn, but somehow still had that same depressing feeling to it, like it was a place to eat and sleep, not really a _home_. Karen realized as she gave a perfunctory glance around Sören's flat that it was devoid of Christmas decorations - no wreaths, no lights, not even a small tree. And she knew Christmas was kind of a big deal to Scandinavians - it had been a huge deal to her father Carl - and Sören didn't seem like the kind of person to eschew Christmas for it being a Christian holiday.  
  
"Have a seat," Sören said as he took her coat and hung it up. "Can I get you anything? Water? Soda, juice?" A small smile. "Hot chocolate?"  
  
"Oh, cocoa would be lovely, thanks."  
  
Sören went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate - the living room and kitchen were open plan. Karen divided her attention between watching Sören in the kitchen, and looking around some more at the flat. The couch was a deep blue and the coffee table was black with a glass frame. The floors were a dark hardwood, and Sören had a blue-and-grey area rug under the couch. A couple of framed paintings hung on the walls - Karen recognized a print of "Starry Night" by Van Gogh. Sören's laptop was on the coffee table, and on the shelf underneath the glass frame there was what appeared to be a WaCom tablet, and two three-ring binders, one thick, one thinner. Karen realized the thing that gave the impression of Sören's place not being lived in was the absence of a bookshelf and books, as she imagined he didn't keep that in the bedroom. And she knew he _did_ read, they had talked about books when they met in 2009.  
  
Sören brought over hot chocolate and joined her on the couch. He reached under the coffee table and pulled out the thicker one of the two binders. "I do most of my art now on the tablet," Sören said, "and I make professional-quality prints of the finished product. I did a couple of shows, actually, when I was living in Kingston with my ex. He was very encouraging. Until he thought I was spending too much time with my art and not enough time with him." Sören frowned. "He wasn't wrong, but it was my way of coping when I was working a hundred hours a week fresh off of losing a patient. I just... withdrew." Sören picked up his hot chocolate and sipped. "Er. I shouldn't keep talking about that."  
  
"No Sören, it's OK, I understand." Karen really did. "If you need to vent, well... you listen to me."  
  
"It feels different listening to you than when I do it," Sören said. He shrugged, took another sip of his hot cocoa, and put it down. "Here." He opened up the portfolio.  
  
Each print was in a protective hole-punched sheet in the binder. Sören had a very distinctive artistic style - almost photorealistic, but with a touch of the surreal, usually either very vivid, saturated colors ramped-up like a dream, or hazy pastels. He was fond of otherworldly landscapes, like forests and gardens and caves and beaches and ponds and lakes that had recognizable flora and fauna as well as fantastic creatures that were clearly not from this world. Karen smiled at a painting of a unicorn sleeping in a forest, and her breath caught at the painting of a mage standing on a beach, waving a wand and creating the aurora in the night sky. She laughed with delight at snowy mountains with gondolas riding on cables, and the mountains had subtle faces like guardian spirits that she had to look at more closely in order to notice.  
  
"That was a trip to the Swiss Alps," Sören said, pointing to the picture. "Anthony took me there for my twenty-ninth birthday. We were going to return for our honeymoon."  
  
"Ah, that was your fiancé?"  
  
Sören nodded with a small frown.  
  
And then Karen felt a prickle. She did in fact know an Anthony who was a barrister, and was not too far in age from them, older by about four years. She hadn't known him to be gay, but then their diploma group wasn't a place to advertise that sort of thing. She did not like the Anthony she knew, and she was hoping very much that it wasn't the same guy. _It's a common name in England, there are at least fifty lawyers named Anthony in London._ But that prickle still nagged at her.  
  
There was a painting of Freddie Mercury after that one. "On that same trip, there's a Freddie Mercury statue in Montreux." Sören grinned. "A tribute to one of my favorite singers."  
  
"Have you been yet to Ian Curtis's grave in Macclesfield Cemetery?"  
  
"I have not," Sören said, his eyes lighting up. "There hasn't been any time for that, but..."  
  
"...We could make time and go, sometime? It's a bit of a ways out, a few hours one way, but -"  
  
"I'd like that a lot." Sören took her hand. "Joy Division and Depeche Mode and all of that helped me survive my teenage years."  
  
The thought of spending a weekend away with Sören filled Karen with a strange, giddy joy. She leaned on his shoulder and Sören turned the page. There was a self-portrait of Sören as Saint Sebastian, hands bound, nude, pierced with arrows. That wasn't all that was pierced - Karen's mouth went dry as she noticed not only did the tattoos she'd seen on his arms go all the way up to his shoulders, but in the painting he had pierced nipples, adorned with silver rings, and a beaded ring in the head of his cock. Karen wondered if that was true to life. Her curiosity - and arousal - over Sören's body did not however detract from the shock of seeing the arrows in his flesh, the bleeding wounds, the look of agony on his face, brown eyes pleading. The painting was so _real_. A shiver went down Karen's spine; for a moment she could almost hear the unvoiced screams, night after night of weeping so brokenly...  
  
"Speaking of surviving an angsty time in my life." Sören gave a wry smile. "I did this shortly after Anthony and I broke up."  
  
Karen swallowed. That picture really was worth a thousand words, expressing the grief far more than words could say. "You must have really loved him."  
  
"I did. It was devastating."  
  
The next picture was even more telling. It was another self-portrait of Sören, this one also nude. He was kneeling, head bowed, wrists bound, cock erect. Surrounded by fire, and some of his body molting into feathers of flame. "That was how I felt about him," Sören whispered. "The painting was called _Spirit of Fire_ , something he called me... in private. He made me feel like I could fly. And I was like Icarus, flying too close to the sun..." Sören closed his eyes and closed the portfolio. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Shhhh." Karen took the binder off his lap and threw her arms around him. "It's OK, Sören."  
  
Sören opened his eyes, those sweet brown eyes full of heartbreaking sadness. "I want to move on with my life."  
  
Karen stroked Sören's cheek, tears stinging her eyes, aching for him.  
  
"I want to fly again, Karen."  
  
And then Karen found herself pulling him into a kiss. She couldn't replace this Anthony, whoever he was - nor did she get the sense he was asking her to. And if Sören could feel for her even a tenth of what he felt for Anthony - that sensitive heart, the depth of his emotions, his passion right there, burning in his paintings - that would be more than enough for her. Just this kiss alone was like drowning, going into the deep, feeling swallowed alive by feeling. They pulled apart to catch their breath and then their mouths crushed back together, tongues swirling more insistently this time, lashing, lapping, and Karen felt the need rising in her, wanting to make Sören forget all about the pain, wanting to make him forget his own damn name.  
  
They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Karen's nipples were hard and aching for attention, and Karen glanced down to see Sören's hardness straining against the leather pants. When they pulled apart again Sören gave her a hungry look, those dark eyes burning like coals. He picked up his hot chocolate and finished it quietly, looking at her the entire time like it was Karen he wanted to drink. Karen finished her hot chocolate and then Sören kissed her again, tasting the chocolate on each other, more gently than before, tenderly. Sören began to pet her hair, rubbed her scalp, and Karen melted into his touch. The kiss deepened, and Sören let out a delicious groan into the kiss that made Karen twinge, ready to climb the walls with wanting him.  
  
Sören pulled back and gave her a searching look. "Karen," he said. "Um..."  
  
"Yes?" Karen waited, trying to control the urge to just rip his clothes off.  
  
"I usually, ah... I like to relax by taking a bath on my nights off. You... want to take a bubble bath with me?" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, looking adorable and sexy, intensifying Karen's arousal even more.  
  
"That sounds lovely."  
  
Karen knew then she would be spending the night. She felt a sense of anticipation as she slipped out of her clothes in the bedroom, while Sören ran the bath. She looked around at Sören's bedroom - he had a full-sized bed which was just big enough for two people, albeit a tight fit, covered with a blue-and-green plaid duvet. All the furniture was black, like the coffee table, and there were very few personal effects in the room, once again giving the impression that Sören wasn't here much and when he was this was a place for eating and sleeping. But she did notice an mp3 stereo system in the bedroom, which suggested he at least listened to music, and there was a blue striped stuffed tiger on the bedtable. Karen smiled at it, finding it heartwarming that Sören, a grown man, had a soft toy and had left it in plain sight, unashamed.  
  
Before Karen could get completely naked, when she was just standing in Sören's bedroom in a red lace bra and panties, Sören poked his head out and said, "Bath's ready." Then his jaw dropped. "My god."  
  
Karen looked down and bit her lip, cheeks on fire. It had been a long time since anyone other than Geir had seen her in her underwear... since anyone had seen her naked.  
  
Sören was looking at her now like he was in awe of her. "You're beautiful, Karen," he husked.  
  
"Thank you," she said. Then she decided to give him a show, unhooking her bra from the front. Sören's breath hitched as her breasts spilled loose, and when she pulled her panties off, the way Sören licked his lips made her feel like a sex goddess.  
  
"Fuck," Sören said, and laughed softly.  
  
Karen strode towards him and when she joined him in the bathroom, she saw that the self-portraits hadn't lied - he had tattoos going all the way up to his shoulders, orange-red flames on one arm, blue ocean waves on the other, he had rings in his nipples, and a captive bead ring in the head of his cock, which was standing at attention for her, long and thick, and already starting to drip precum. Karen had never seen an uncircumcised penis before, and Sören was uncut, the foreskin rolled back to expose the head; Karen wondered about what it would be like for her tongue to play there.  
  
Sören was also pale, smooth-chested, a fine growth of black hair on his arms and legs, black curls under his arms and a thick curly bush framing his cock. He had a lean, willowy build, probably the combination of a fast metabolism and being on his feet constantly. When he turned his back to step into the tub, Karen saw the sleeve tattoos led out to a back tattoo - a firebird on one side, a waterbird on the other, tails entwined above an eight-pointed star. Karen wondered about the ink, and the story behind it.  
  
Karen got in the tub, gasping a little at the very hot water, not enough to be scalding but hotter than she usually ran her showers.  
  
"Oh is that too hot? I'm sorry," Sören said.  
  
"It's fine. I'll get adjusted." She was already starting to adjust and the warmth was more pleasant than uncomfortable.  
  
Then Karen laughed when she saw what Sören had near the tub - a bottle of champagne and two clear tumbler glasses, not proper wine glasses.  
  
"I hardly ever drink," Sören said. He gestured to the champagne. "I bought this last New Year's intending to get shit-faced and then I got called in so that didn't happen. It's been in my fridge this entire time, unopened."  
  
"Well, this is a cause for celebration, I think."  
  
Sören opened the champagne, giving a little squeak when the cork popped and the champagne fizzed in the tub. Karen found his reaction hilarious and adorable, and she accepted the glass with a "thank you" and leaned back.  
  
They sipped champagne in companionable silence, and when Sören finished his glass, he took one of Karen's legs and began to rub her foot. Karen gave a deep sigh and made a purring noise, flexing involuntarily as Sören's hands worked magic on her foot, kneading the arch and the sole, tension flooding out of her body, washing away.  
  
"Ho-lee _fuck_ ," Karen said, sighing again.  
  
"Jæja?" Sören gave her a hopeful little smile.  
  
Karen nodded. "That's amazing."  
  
"We've just started."  
  
Sören continued to rub and knead Karen's foot, watching her reaction, and then his hands slid up, gently rubbing her calf... then his palms and fingers were brushing, caressing. Karen heard herself moan, felt herself twinge. Sören bit his lower lip and before she could get too into it, he took her other leg and began to rub her other foot, kneading vigorously, more tension rolling out of her. Then his hands were stroking that calf, slow and sensuously.  
  
Karen fought the urge to touch herself, but even more than that, she wanted to touch him. When Sören was done caressing her calf, Karen slid closer in the tub and leaned up on him, and pulled him into a kiss. Sören cradled her, kissing her back, stroking her cheek, her hair. Between kisses she looked into those soulful brown eyes and there was such tenderness in them that it made her melt.  
  
Already, she had fallen for him. She knew, honestly, that she had loved him from that first time she saw him, in 2009. Others might say she was moving too fast, rushing in, but it was like a force of nature, something she had no control over. This wasn't moving too fast, to her - this was long overdue. She felt _hungry_ , and soon the kisses were more intense, more feverish. Karen's hand strayed to Sören's hard cock underneath the bubbles, and Sören moaned; he cried out when she began to kiss his neck and his shoulder, her other hand exploring his chest, fingers teasing his pierced nipples.  
  
Karen thought about straddling his thighs and riding him right there in the tub, but then Sören said, "We should get out, _elskan_." He showed Karen wrinkled fingers. "Besides..." Their eyes met, and Sören gave her a serious, smouldering look. "I want to take care of you properly."  
  
They kissed their way to the bed, then Sören turned down the covers, put pillows on the foot of the bed, patted the bed and said, "Wait here." Karen watched as he went into the dresser table next to his bed and pulled out a jar. He stepped out of the bedroom, completely naked; Karen watched his ass. She lay on the bed on her stomach, waiting, and heard the microwave. When Sören came back in she saw he had a bowl of oil.  
  
"Coconut oil," he explained. "It helps me to, ah, not get psoriasis in the winter."  
  
Sören put on the stereo and Karen smiled as she heard the sexy contralto of Sade. Sören dimmed the lights, and then he got on the bed next to Karen. He poured oil onto Karen's back, and Karen moaned as Sören's hands rubbed her shoulders. She moaned again as he leaned down to kiss them... rubbing and kissing.  
  
He worked his way down her back, kissing and licking her back as his hands kneaded and caressed. Gooseflesh spread over Karen's body, and she could feel herself dripping, aching to have him inside her. But Sören was taking it slow, building her arousal, hands rubbing in circles, kissing here and kissing there. When he got to her lower back, where she carried a surprising amount of tension, his hands pressed harder, as if he intuitively knew she was more tense there.  
  
"I work on spines for a living," Sören said, seeming to know what she was thinking. "Spines and brains."  
  
"Something tells me you don't do this for all your patients."  
  
"No." Sören laughed softly. "And you've got a much nicer back than the ones I usually see."  
  
With that, he began to kiss his way up her spine, as his hands worked on her lower back. Karen moaned into the pillows, and heard herself cry out when Sören licked back down her spine. It was taking her everything she had to not shove him onto his back and ride him.  
  
Then he was massaging her ass, another place with a surprising amount of tension. Every now and again Sören's fingers strayed into the crack of her ass, and then when he began to rub the back of her thighs his fingers strayed between her legs. Sören's breath hitched, and he gave a little groan. "You are already so, so wet," Sören husked.  
  
"Yes." Karen looked up and glanced over her shoulder at him, met his eyes. "I want you."  
  
"Mmmm. Soon." Sören's fingers played with her a little, just enough to get her wanting more, then he was rubbing her thighs again. Then he leaned in and was kissing the back of her thighs, as he rubbed her calves. Every time his mouth came close to her sex, Karen gave a little cry of frustration.  
  
Finally Sören said, "Turn over, please."  
  
Karen rolled onto her back. Sören poured a generous amount of oil over her chest, and he leaned in and kissed her mouth, tongue licking slowly but insistently, as his hands worked the oil over her sternum and breasts and ribs and back up. Then he was kissing her neck, and he drew a nipple into his mouth as his fingers played with the other, rubbing, then pulling gently, rolling it. His tongue lapped the nipple and he suckled some more, before turning his mouth to the other, with his fingers playing with the nipple that had just been in his mouth. Back and forth he went, loving them thoroughly, making Karen crazier and crazier. If this was what his tongue was like on her nipples, she could only imagine what it was going to be like lower.  
  
He rubbed her stomach and kissed it, then he was rubbing her thighs again, kissing them. At last he settled between her legs, nuzzling her bush. "I love that you don't shave there," he said. "And you're blonde all over. So sexy."  
  
And then his tongue began to tease, licking around the clit but not directly on it, slow, lazy brushes. He knew exactly what he was doing, smiling as she whimpered and clutched at him. He sucked on her folds, one then the other, kissed them, working his tongue as he sucked. Then his tongue was back to playing around her clit, and before she could cry out and beg him, his tongue at last made contact with the swollen, aching nub, licking slowly, slowly, then faster. Soon his face was buried in her, lips on her as his tongue thrashed like a hurricane, making filthy, delicious slurping noises. Karen arched to him, grabbed his curls, started thrusting against his face, not able to help it. Then his tongue was inside her as his fingers rubbed her clit in circles, and Karen howled. When he pulled his tongue out of her he tasted her juices from his fingers, and stuck his fingers inside her, fucking her as his tongue lashed her clit again. Karen fucked herself on his fingers, almost sobbing as the tension built higher and higher, Sören's tongue stroking her into a frenzy. And at last he was sucking on her clit, making "mmmmmm" noises and slurping, and after a few minutes of the sweet, wicked suctioning she climaxed, screaming Sören's name as she gushed on his face.  
  
Sören moaned, lapping her juices. He gave her a few seconds, watching her contract, and then his tongue was in her again, his fingers on her clit, feeling even more amazing this time with her being so sensitive. When he lapped at her clit, fingers fucking, Karen heard herself make high-pitched noises that would embarrass her any other time, but right now she needed too much. And then he was sucking on her clit again and Karen came hard, screaming as the pleasure overtook her.  
  
Sören came up to kiss her, and she moaned at tasting herself on him. "You taste so good," Sören whispered, kissing her again. He kissed down her neck, down to her breasts, and as he lapped and suckled each nipple Karen felt herself wanting again, needing. Sören's fingers went back down to play between her legs, and soon his head was back down there too, eating her to another climax.  
  
Sören got on the opposite side of the bed, on his back, and patted his shoulders. "Come sit on my face, _elskan._ "  
  
Karen pounced on him, making them both laugh, and then she kissed him before she moved her body up, straddling his shoulders and lowering down onto his face. Sören's hands came around to hold the small of her back, sliding to her hips and ass and back again, as he really dug in, sucking and licking, shaking his head as the sweetness of his full lips and agile tongue sent her to that edge again. It didn't take long for Karen to climax again, and Sören gave her a few more orgasms like that, making appreciative "mmmmm" noises, slurping her juices, pleasing her like nobody else had ever pleased her before.  
  
She lay there for awhile, dazed, and then she came back to herself. Sören rained tender little kisses over her face, stroking her hair, and she kissed him back and felt his hard-on against her thigh. She realized he'd been very patient, putting his own needs aside to make her come. Now she wanted to get him off. "Sören," she whispered, reaching down to play with his cock. "How do you want it?"  
  
"How do _you_ want it?"  
  
That was like taking her to a dessert buffet and expecting her to make up her mind. "Yes?"  
  
Sören chuckled. His finger traced around and around a nipple, and when his thumb brushed it Karen moaned. "Well..." Sören glanced over at the dresser table. "Are you on any kind of birth control?"  
  
Karen shook her head. "It's been a long time for me, long enough that... you know." She shrugged. "Hasn't been a need till now."  
  
"OK." Sören opened the first drawer and took out a packet of condoms. He ripped one open with his teeth. "We'll use condoms till we figure out what we're doing for contraception."  
  
Karen was a little disappointed - she was curious as to what the ring in Sören's cock felt like. Sören noticed the look on her face and gave her a little kiss. "You can still feel the PA through this," he said.  
  
"P...A?"  
  
"Prince Albert," Sören said.  
  
Karen was confused. "What... what does Victoria's husband have to do with this?"  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. His stomach shook and he wiped tears from his eyes. "It's the name for the piercing in, well." He gestured to his cock. "Supposedly Prince Albert himself had one. I don't know if that was true or just a load of shite or what, but either way, this is called a Prince Albert or PA for short."  
  
"I see." Karen laughed too. "I learn something new every day, I guess."  
  
Sören kissed the tip of her nose.  
  
"I'm curious," Karen said. "When did you get that done? And why?"  
  
"2005, same year as when I got my ink, and, ah." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "Stimulation? Everyone I've ever fucked with it has raved about it. And, well, it's pretty." Sören fingered the bead before he slipped the condom on. "At one point after our engagement my ex talked seriously about getting a diamond for me down there, but, uh, we broke up before that could happen." Then Sören facepalmed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bring him up while we're -"  
  
Karen put a finger to Sören's lips and kissed him. "Shhhhh. I know it hurts." She put a hand on his heart. "We'll make it better."  
  
Sören kissed her. Then he patted his thighs. "I want to watch you ride me, _elskan._ "  
  
Karen wasted no time straddling him, and when he was all the way in, they both moaned. Karen made a note to herself to get an appointment for the Pill as soon as possible, because just from what she could feel from beneath the condom, the bead in the ring was exquisite, rubbing inside her deliciously.  
  
Karen rode him slowly at first, teasing him, captivated by the way he looked at her, that awe on his face again. Sören's hands ran over her, from her breasts down her stomach to her thighs, and back up. "You're so beautiful," Sören whispered.  
  
"You're beautiful too." Karen leaned down and kissed him, and played with his curls. "And beautiful here." She put her hand back on his heart.  
  
Sören took Karen's hand and kissed it, then leaned up and put his arms around her, holding her tight as he claimed her mouth. Karen started to ride harder, faster, and harder still when Sören kissed her neck. When Sören seized a nipple with his lips, pulling on it, sucking hard, Karen grabbed onto his shoulders and bounced on him madly, screaming with pleasure as his cock stroked inside her just right, that bead in the ring rubbing away at her G-spot. Sören's fingers found her clit and rubbed, and soon Karen was quivering, whimpering, panting, closer and closer to orgasm.  
  
"You like that, _elskan mín?_ " Sören rasped, kissing and licking her neck.  
  
"God, yes. Please, Sören, please..."  
  
"Mmmmm, you want to come for me?" Sören's fingers rubbed at her harder.  
  
Karen nodded and let out a whine.  
  
Sören licked up her neck and whispered, "Come, _elskan_ ," and then he kissed her.  
  
Karen screamed into the kiss, exploding around him. The orgasm was so good it almost hurt, the hard contractions seemingly endless. A few thrusts and Sören moaned into the kiss and pulled back to moan, "Oh, _Karen._ " Karen felt a surge of triumph and kissed him again, deeply, claiming him.  
  
They rested, Sören discarded the spent condom, and then they were kissing again, and Karen felt that need flare in her once more, stronger when Sören lowered his face to lick and suck one nipple, then the other, heat in his eyes. He kissed between her breasts, then up her neck, and asked, "Again?"  
  
"God, yes."  
  
Sören got another condom and rolled it on, and then Karen sank down on him again. She rode him hard coming out the gate, and Sören grabbed her, thrust into her with wild abandon, matching her rhythm. The slap of their flesh and the wet sloppy sound of their fuck added to Karen's excitement, as did the sound of Sören growling and grunting, the fierce, almost angry look of lust on his face as he gave in to his animal side. Karen threw back her head and clung to Sören, grabbing his curls as he feasted on her breasts again, sucking them hard, tongue lashing furiously. "Fuck, I want you," Sören ground out.  
  
"I want _you._ " Karen let out the truth, then. "I've wanted you since that night we first met. I've come thinking about you..."  
  
"Oh, _fuck._ " Sören slammed into her harder. "God, _þú getur haft mig eins mikið og þú vilt._ "  
  
The sound of him speaking Icelandic drove her even wilder. Karen moaned and bounced as hard as she could, right on that edge of climax again. "Sören... oh god, Sören, fuck me..."  
  
" _Þú ert svo fallegur. Mig langar svo illa í þig..._ "  
  
"Yes, god, fuck me..."  
  
" _Ég vil þig. Ég þarfnast þín. Gefðu mér allt sem þú fékkst. Ég mun ríða þér og ríða þér._ "  
  
Karen whined again. She hadn't realized that him speaking Icelandic would undo her like this, get her so close. Sören took her clit between his fingers, pinched slightly as he worked it, pushed into her firmly, and a few thrusts later her orgasm overtook her, crying out at the top of her lungs as she came and came and came. Sören gave a fierce shout as he climaxed, and they drank each other's cries, moaning into a deep, passionate kiss, holding each other's hands.  
  
They lay there again, then after Sören took off the condom he pulled Karen into his chest, wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. "Thank you," he whispered.  
  
"Oh god, thank _you._ " Karen laughed. "No one's ever made me come like that."  
  
"This is just the beginning." Their eyes met. "I want to be good to you, Karen."  
  
"Oh, Sören." Karen stroked his face. "I want to be good to _you._ "  
  
Sören kissed her forehead. "Can you stay the night? I do have to get up at five tomorrow to get ready for work at seven..."  
  
"I can stay the night, Sören."  
  
She dozed not long after that, and stirred when Sören got up to turn off the stereo and the lights. He snuggled back against her, pulling up the covers around him, and she fell asleep again quickly.  
  
That night she dreamed of the painting she had seen of Sören molting into a firebird like the one inked on his back, and then he was in a forge, wearing leather breeches and otherwise shirtless, hammering steel on an anvil. Karen watched the sweat drip down his body, the intense almost-murderous look on his face as he beat the steel and she watched it glow with a faint white light that got brighter and brighter.  
  
He wasn't taking care of himself; he was exhausted. He didn't listen to her yelling for him to take a break. At last he collapsed, and she was there, wiping the sweat with a cool, damp cloth, giving him water. He leaned on her as she dragged him to his bed, and he pulled something out from a dresser table drawer... a black glass sphere.  
  
 _This is for you._  
  
"What is it?" Karen asked him.  
  
 _A piece of my heart._  
  
Karen looked into the sphere and saw the tapestry of space, brilliant nebulas and stars sparkling like diamonds. She could feel the diamond-stars burn, searing heat, almost burning her up...  
  
Karen woke up with a gasp. She looked at the clock - it was four in the morning, an hour before Sören's alarm was set to go off. She snuggled back against him, not wanting to wake him up too soon, knowing he needed his rest, but apparently he was a light sleeper, and he pet her hair, kissed her brow, before opening those sweet brown eyes.  
  
"Mmmmmm." Then Sören looked at the time and made a noise.  
  
Karen couldn't help laughing at the noise and the grumpy look on his face. "I'm sorry, Sören, I didn't mean to wake you..."  
  
"It's OK, it happens." Sören patted her, and gave her a little kiss.  
  
One kiss became another, then another. Soon Karen's nipple was in his mouth again, and Karen began rubbing against his thigh, feeling like she was in heat for him. Mental images from last night flooded her mind and she twinged, wanting more.  
  
Sören teased her a little, kissing her breasts, fingers rubbing her clit in slow circles. When he started kissing her neck Karen growled, "Sören, fuck me already."  
  
Sören laughed and reached into the bedtable for another condom. "Oh, _elskan._ "  
  
This time Karen lay on her back, looking up at Sören as he climbed atop her. He stroked her face and her hair as he pushed into her slowly, and when he was all the way in they kissed. Then Sören began to thrust, slow and sweet, looking into her eyes, tracing her facial features with his fingers and thumb.  
  
" _Elskan,_ " he said, his eyes shining with love.  
  
He kept it slow as long as she could take it, teasing her. He kissed her neck, her breasts, kissed her mouth, sucked on her lower lip, rubbed his tongue against hers. Finally she began to rock her hips back at him, urging him on faster. He matched her rhythm, and at last he was pounding her into the mattress, her arms and legs wrapped around him, bucking underneath him as she cried out, "Yes, Sören, fuck me, oh god, fuck me, yes..."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " Sören groaned. " _Fuck._ " He kissed her roughly, slamming into her even harder.  
  
With his fingers on her clit, it didn't take long for her to come again. He sent her over the edge with a howl, and a moment later he gave a cry of his own as he climaxed, shuddering against her. The sight of Sören gasping, shaking, ecstasy on his face, made Karen's orgasm even better, loving to see him undone.  
  
They snuggled and Sören's alarm went off, startling him. "JESUS," Sören yelled, reaching over to slap the alarm off, which made Karen giggle. Sören shook his head, grinned, and gave her a kiss.  
  
"I'm really sorry that I have to work this morning," Sören said. "If I had my way we could shag all weekend."  
  
"Soon, perhaps?"  
  
"Yes, perhaps."  
  
Karen went for it. "What's your schedule like this upcoming week? When can I see you again?"  
  
Sören scratched his beard, looking thoughtful. "I have Tuesday night free as of 7 PM, and Saturday free as of 4 PM, and all day Sunday."  
  
"Can we do Tuesday?"  
  
"We can. But..." Sören sat up, got the spent condom off, and turned the light on. "OK. Karen. I have to be really honest with you about something."  
  
Karen braced herself. That never sounded good, but she didn't want to make assumptions, wanting all the facts first, so she waited.  
  
Sören rubbed his beard and then his curls. "OK, here goes." He faced her, looked into her eyes. "I told you that my ex, Anthony, cheated on me."  
  
"You did."  
  
"It was once, as far as he told me - I believe him, though maybe I shouldn't, but he was a busy professional too, being a barrister, so it's not like he had a lot of free time, as it was he had to meet this guy on fucking Grindr..." Sören snorted. "Anyway." Sören cleared his throat. "I work really fucking insane hours. When Anthony cheated, I was pulling one hundred hours a week, and had been for almost two months. I haven't worked that kind of schedule since 2013, but there's a non-zero chance that I'm going to have to work that schedule again in the future, because one of our best neurosurgeons, Colin, is going private next year."  
  
"...OK."  
  
Sören folded his arms. "A few times during the course of our relationship I was concerned that Anthony wasn't going to get his needs met with my hours being what they were. If we had an open relationship, we might still be together now. But what's done is done. He broke my trust - it was more the going behind my back that I had a problem with."  
  
"That's very understandable."  
  
"OK, well, what I'm trying to get at here is... because of that experience, I no longer do monogamy. I give carte blanche for anyone I'm dating to fuck whoever they want, so long as I know about it. That also works both ways - I _am_ bisexual, and I tried to be monogamous for Anthony, and found myself craving female companionship every so often, the irony being that _he_ cheated." Sören snorted. "I don't have a lot of time, and I don't know who else I might end up taking to my bed, but if the fact that I am eventually going to start fucking dudes again is a dealbreaker for you -"  
  
"It's not, Sören." Karen laughed. "It's... actually kind of a turn-on."  
  
"Oh." Sören's eyes widened. Then his face lit up into a wicked grin. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh." He narrowed his eyes and smirked, and Karen laughed harder.  
  
Then Sören sobered. "I do get tested for HIV every six months, and as I re-enter the dating scene I'm thinking about going on Truvada, which is a once daily pill to reduce the risk of HIV transmission. I don't expect to return to my party days in Reykjavik where I was fucking random strangers, uh, a lot has changed since then, _but_ after what happened with Anthony and the zombie fog of depression I've been in for the last year, I need to grab life by the horns again. So if you have _any_ objections, or second thoughts about entering a relationship with me now that I've told you honestly this isn't going to be monogamous..."  
  
"I don't." Karen patted him. "We can do this, Sören."  
  
"Are you absolutely sure?" Sören cocked his head to one side.  
  
"It's new territory for me but really, it's OK with me. I would rather share you than not have you at all." And then it came out before Karen could stop herself. "Maybe we could find someone to share together."  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. "I like how you think, Karen."  
  
Karen kissed him. "It's not mandatory, of course. I'm fine with you, for example, sleeping with gay men who wouldn't be interested -"  
  
Sören clearly needed some levity after the serious discussion. "Hi Fine With You For Example Sleeping With Gay Men -"  
  
" _Sören._ "  
  
Sören gave her a little kiss. He held her and stroked her hair for a minute. "Thank you, Karen."  
  
"Thank you." And then she had to say it. "Since we're being honest and all..."  
  
"Já?"  
  
Karen swallowed hard. "I think I love you, Sören."  
  
Sören got very quiet, and for a moment Karen thought she'd moved too fast, but then she saw his eyes were too bright. He gave her a tight smile and a tighter hug. "I think I love you too, Karen."


	4. From Fire By Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is in fact an actual Joy Division cover band called Dead Souls, but it is not the same as this one in the story, which is fictional (and set in a different universe than our own).

After her date with Sören, Karen went home to shower and change, and then she walked over to The Raven's Roost, a bookstore-coffeehouse in Covent Garden where she had a standing "date" every Saturday morning at eight AM for breakfast with her neighbor and friend, Nicholas Decaux. This was their routine regardless of weather, and it was snowing again as she made the journey. But today the snow seemed beautiful rather than dreary, enchanting the world.  
  
Nicholas was already there when she arrived, sitting at "their" table, stroking his short silver beard thoughtfully as he read a well-loved copy of Sappho. Then he noticed Karen strolling in and his lips quirked in a small smile that would be a big grin on anyone else; his dark eyes were shining and crinkled at the corners. The elderly gentleman gave a polite little wave before he sipped his tea. As usual he was wearing all black, simple and elegant, his trenchcoat draped on the back of his chair. Karen gave him a little hug and kissed the top of his head, breathing in the comforting scent of the cologne he wore - reminiscent of an evergreen forest with a touch of spiced rum - and Nicholas's cheeks flushed pink.  
  
"Hi, Dad," Karen said. In the last nine months they'd known each other he'd become like a father to her and Geir both, and he encouraged them both to call him "Dad".  
  
"Good morning, dear." Nicholas had two cups of steaming tea by him and he pushed one at Karen. "I've taken the liberty of ordering your usual, so it should be on its way."  
  
"Good, thank you." Karen patted his hand before she took the tea, letting the steam warm her face before taking a sip.  
  
"And how are you this morning? You look very chipper, downright radiant, even though, as you know, it is snowing rather hard out there."  
  
Karen laughed. _That's one,_ she thought to herself, mentally counting the "as you knows", a game she and Geir had started a few months back in affectionate fondness for Nicholas's verbal tic, needing to inform others of what was already obvious. Some days the "as you know"s numbered more than others. Karen sipped her tea again and said, "The snow is lovely. And life is good. Very good."  
  
"I see." Nicholas raised a thick salt-and-pepper eyebrow as he sipped tea. His dark eyes were penetrating, studying her, knowing something was out of the usual.  
  
Karen decided to just tell him. "I had a date last night."  
  
"Ah." Nicholas nodded. "So, who is the lucky man? Woman?" Nicholas was gay, though closeted - Karen and Geir had been the first two people Nicholas had ever come out to, and he'd been a bachelor all his life; Karen noticed Nicholas tried not to assume the orientations of others.  
  
"His name is Sören," Karen said. "We met back in 2009, when I was visiting Reykjavik on business, and we fell out of touch. I ran into him again recently when I went with Geir to National for his brain scan, Sören was the doctor who saw him."  
  
"He's a neurologist? Neurosurgeon...?"  
  
"Neurosurgeon," Karen said, nodding.  
  
"That's impressive." Nicholas sipped his tea. "I gather he must be quite busy."  
  
"He is, but he made time for me, and we're getting together again on Tuesday." Karen grinned.  
  
"Anything interesting planned?"  
  
Karen's mind went straight to the gutter, thinking about her night with Sören, craving more, but she attempted to keep the conversation chaste, since Nicholas _was_ like a father to her. "We're going to see a band perform, and then I'm cooking dinner for him." She and Sören had discussed plans before she left his flat.  
  
"Well, good. I'm glad you've found somebody." Nicholas squeezed her hand and smiled.  
  
"I wasn't even looking," Karen admitted. "The universe seemed to just... drop him into my lap."  
  
"That seems to be the way these things go," Nicholas said. "As you know, we met rather by chance, and you and Geir... and years ago, Tobias was wandering near my flat..."  
  
 _There's two._ Karen laughed. "How is the kitty?"  
  
"He woke me up at five this morning dropping a toy mouse onto my face." Nicholas chuckled and gave a little eyeroll. "He spent some time laying on me, kneading and purring, then after my morning visit to the restroom he informed me he was starving, even though he had been fed before I retired last evening."  
  
"Of course. He can see the bottom of his dish, that's pretty dire."  
  
"Indeed." Nicholas chuckled again.  
  
"Speaking of food..." Karen bit her lower lip. "Can I borrow your recipe for bouillabaisse? I want to make it for Sören when he comes over on Tuesday." Karen knew Sören liked seafood, as an Icelander, and she wanted to make him something very special, knowing he didn't have home cooking very often.  
  
"You may, I shall send you an e-mail. Although, if you'd like me to come over and cook for you..."  
  
"Not this time, but maybe in the not too distant future, I could bring him over?"  
  
"Yes, you should do that." Nicholas nodded. "I'd like to meet your beau, be welcoming and supportive..."  
  
Karen laughed at the word "beau", charmingly old-fashioned. "He's lovely. I think you two would get on well."  
  
"He's from Iceland, you said?"  
  
"He came over in 2010, the NHS is sponsoring his visa though he's looking at citizenship next year."  
  
"How old is he, if you don't mind me asking, your age, older..."  
  
"My age. He just turned thirty." Karen remembered Sören mentioning his birthday was in November, back in Reykjavik.  
  
There was a lull in conversation as their breakfast started - crumpets with honey and cream for Karen, hot buttered toast with apricot jam for Nicholas. Karen felt ravenous, and ended up ordering a banana-and-toffee muffin after her crumpets were finished.  
  
"Second breakfast?" Nicholas couldn't resist the joke.  
  
Karen grinned. "I guess I worked up an appetite last night." Then she realized that she'd said that out loud, and what it implied. Heat flooded her face. "Er."  
  
Nicholas chuckled softly into his tea. "It's all right, dear." But now he was blushing too.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sunday and Monday passed in a giddy haze, and at last it was Tuesday. Karen spent the morning before work tidying the flat, with Geir's help, and in the early evening when she got back from school she gave the place a once-over and took care of a few more spots that nagged at her.  
  
She and Geir then sat down and had tea. "I can make myself scarce if you need the privacy," Geir said.  
  
"This is your home too, it's not like you don't have your own room." Even though they did sleep in the same bed from time to time. "I'm more worried about you being bothered, if..." She didn't need to finish the sentence.  
  
Geir laughed. "I can put on headphones. Or earplugs."  
  
"And I feel bad, because normally I'd invite you to dinner -"  
  
Geir waved his hand. "I already got an invite from Nicholas, so I'll go over there, eat his cooking, spend some time before I come back. I take it you told him about the date?"  
  
Karen nodded. "He seemed happy for me. He actually asked on Saturday if I wanted him to cook for us, I told him no, not this time. I'd like to bring Sören over there one of these nights, but I didn't think it would suit for tonight."  
  
"That's understandable, the two of you are still getting caught up."  
  
 _On sex,_ Karen thought to herself, trying to restrain a grin, thinking about the flood of desire that had swept them away on Friday night, five years of pent-up longing. And though she had tried to behave herself and not let innuendo slip the way it had in front of Nicholas, Geir knew that gleam in her eye and he snorted, and Karen erupted into giggles.  
  
"All right, well, I'll be headed off shortly to Chez Decaux." Geir gave Karen a tight hug. "Have fun getting... caught up."  
  
Sören arrived promptly at seven. When Karen answered the door she gave a little gasp at the bouquet of red alstroemeria, white roses, pine cones and holly. Sören gave her that shy yet radiant smile that took her breath away, sweet brown eyes crinkling at the corners.  
  
"Hi," Sören said.  
  
"Hi," Karen said.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi -"  
  
Karen grabbed Sören and kissed him, and dragged him inside by the hem of his shirt. Sören laughed softly into the kiss, and when they pulled apart, lingering, Sören reached out to stroke Karen's face with his free hand. "It's nice to see you."  
  
"You too." Karen took the bouquet. "And this is... it's lovely, Sören. And very thoughtful, thank you." She was delighted with the Christmas-themed bouquet, and put it right on the coffee table in the living room as a centerpiece.  
  
Before Karen left Sören's flat on Saturday, they had checked the Internet to see if anything of interest was happening locally on Tuesday night; as luck would have it, a band called Dead Souls, that covered Joy Division and other 80s and 90s goth bands, was having a gig in Shoreditch. They were going to take the Tube there and back, and then they'd have a late dinner.  
  
The slow cooker had been going all day, with Nicholas's recipe for bouillabaisse. Sören's nostrils twitched as he took off his leather bomber. "Something smells wonderful."  
  
"Yes, that's dinner." Karen smiled. "I hope it tastes as good as it smells."  
  
"I'm sure it will. And you taste as good as you look," Sören said with a wicked look on his face, eyes raking her up and down, making Karen blush and giggle.  
  
Though Karen wasn't so much into wearing darker colors these days, it was de rigueur for seeing a Joy Division cover band, so she wore a black cashmere sweater and black jeans, and tonight her hair was up in a loose, messy chignon with two black pearl hairsticks. Sören was wearing a black ruffly pirate blouse and leather pants, and his curls were loose. He had a duffel bag with him for a change of clothes, which he set down next to the couch before he took a seat.  
  
Karen put on tea, and came back when it was ready. Sören patted the seat next to him on the couch and Karen sat, and gave him another hug before she poured his tea. They sipped in silence for a moment and then Sören said, "You have a really nice place."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"It feels very... welcoming. Very, what's the word? Housey? No, homey." Sören laughed softly.  
  
"I'll have to give you the proper tour when we get back from the show."  
  
Sören nodded. He glanced around the living room. "Jæja, just what I see here, I like. You have a lot of books. And you've decorated so nicely for Christmas."  
  
Those were two things Karen had noticed Sören had a distinct lack of in his flat in Holborn; the lack of Christmas decor in particular had made her feel sad. But here, Karen and Geir had a small tree decorated with rainbow fairy lights, balls and icicles, there was a wreath on the front door, three stockings were hung by the tree (though Karen now thought there should be a fourth one, for Sören), Karen had put a Yule Goat on the coffee table in honor of the Swedish side of her family, and there were frosted, snowflake-etched hurricane candle holders with tiny wreaths around them in the living room and dining area; Geir and Karen even had wreaths on the doors to their respective bedrooms upstairs. The bathroom now featured a pine-scented guest soap and red and green towels.  
  
Karen swallowed, thinking of Sören's sad, spartan flat. "So you do celebrate Christmas, then? I'd been wondering why you had nothing up -"  
  
Sören cringed. "Já, well you know, I work, I come home and eat and sleep. I haven't been in the habit of entertaining company, and don't have a lot of time to go shopping for decorations and stuff. Plus..." Sören looked down and gave a deep sigh. "I didn't do Christmas at all last year, since Anthony and I were newly broken up and I had spent the last two Christmases with him and his family and it was just too depressing..."  
  
"Oh Sören, I'm sorry if I hit a nerve -"  
  
"No, it's OK." Sören patted Karen. He looked up and tried to manage a smile. "I guess it's kind of, ah, comforting, that you've got the place all decorated. Reminder that life goes on."  
  
"Did you have plans for Christmas?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "I have to work some of that week, but in my downtime, no."  
  
"You do now."  
  
Sören's face lit up, and Karen felt both a warm glow, already excited to spend the holiday with Sören, and also a pang, her heart breaking for how lonely he was at Christmas last year. Karen drew Sören into her arms again and they held each other tight for a minute.  
  
When they finished their tea they put on their respective outerwear and left the flat, hand in hand. The snow was softly falling as they stepped outside, and there was a fine dusting of snow on the sidewalks, crunching under foot, with a few inches of snow on the green; the snow sparkled under the gold glow of the streetlights, and Sören looked regal with snowflakes in his hair and eyelashes.  
  
"This is gonna be good," Sören said. "I haven't been to a gig in ages. Not since..." His voice trailed off. "Er, sorry, I need to stop bringing him up."  
  
"It's OK, Sören." Karen gave him a squeeze. "I know you've bottled it up inside for quite some time."  
  
"Just know I'm glad to be here with you right now." Their eyes met.  
  
"I'm glad to be here with you, too." Karen stroked his cheek and then skritched his beard, which made Sören grin, and she couldn't help grinning back.  
  
"I've been feeling all..." Sören paused, searching for words. "Tingly and stupid since Saturday. I feel alive again. The world is a beautiful place again." He took Karen's hands and spun her around, making her laugh, and he laughed too. "It's a good feeling."  
  
"It really is," Karen said. "I know what it's like to feel like the soul is sucked out of you. Granted, I've had a little over a year to start recovering and living again. But it's been uphill, and now..." She gestured to him. "Finding you again, it's like finding a missing piece I didn't even know was missing."  
  
Sören's eyes were soft and he gave her a little kiss. "It's good you feel this way too, it's not just me."  
  
"It's definitely not just you. You make me want to shout from the rooftops that I love you, and that the world is a better place with you in it." Karen kissed the tip of his nose. "You give me joy, Sören."  
  
"So of course now we have to go listen to depressing goth music."  
  
Karen snickered. "At least we can be depressed goths together."  
  
On the Tube ride to Shoreditch they cuddled together, and then it was a fairly short walk from the station to the bar where Dead Souls was playing. The bar was notable as a hipster hangout, and had some of Banksy's art on display. Sören's eyes widened, recognizing the art right away when they walked in. "OH MY GOD, IT'S BANKSY," he yelled at the top of his lungs, like a hyper big kid, making Karen giggle, laughing harder as they got some annoyed and confused stares. "Holy _shit_ ," Sören said, his voice hushed and reverent. "I fucking love Banksy's work."  
  
"Really?" Sören's art was the total opposite of what Banksy did, but then, Karen supposed one could appreciate things different from one's own style.  
  
Sören nodded. "When I was back in Reykjavik I'd heard about Banksy, and when I decided to apply to work for the NHS I promised myself I'd go look at some installments. But of course there was never any time for that, and I got so caught up in work that I just kind of forgot about it. Even if I had, I don't think Anthony would have been keen on going to see Banksy installments, a bit too urban for him, probably."  
  
It was a bit too urban for Karen too, truthfully, but she at least appreciated the message behind it, and the sort of creativity it took to do the kind of installments he did. And she felt that a relationship involved a certain amount of compromise - sometimes she might do things Sören wanted to do, and sometimes he might do things she wanted to do. It happened that tonight they both wanted to see a goth band.  
  
"Though," Sören chuckled, "when I found out Electric Avenue was a real place, and not just an 80s song, I made Anthony take me there because I needed to see for myself that this was real and wasn't just his friend Lawrence taking the piss. And it was in Brixton. We, ah. Kind of stood out, and I didn't know we were going to stand out so much because I'm not from here - there was a reason why he kept asking me _are you very sure_ \- but he had a sense of humor about it, and people didn't really bother us." Sören snorted. "They keep painting over it, and people keep tagging 'We're gonna rock down to' on the Electric Avenue sign. I have pictures of it on my hard drive."  
  
Karen giggled, though she felt a small twinge of apprehension at the name Lawrence - that had been someone from her diploma group. A friend of the Anthony she knew. She hoped that was a coincidence. "You'll have to show me sometime." Then she hastily added, "You know, if it's not going to be painful -"  
  
"Sometime," Sören said, nodding. "When the wound is less raw. You still haven't seen all my art yet, either."  
  
"No, and I'd like to."  
  
They went to get drinks; Karen had a shot of Auchentoshan, and Sören had a bottle of Guinness. They managed to find a table within a decent range of the stage, not too close, not too far, and drank as they waited. At last the band came on, all clad in black, and wearing heavy black makeup - eyeliner, mascara, black lipstick, black nail polish. A very tall, very thin man with a shaved bald head, wearing black bondage pants with a long-sleeved black mesh shirt, got up to the microphone and said in an impossibly deep voice, "Good evening, we are Dead Souls."  
  
Their first song of the night was a cover of "A Forest" by The Cure. Some of the audience sang along, including Sören. Karen felt a shiver down her spine and gooseflesh.  
  
 _Come closer and see  
See into the trees  
Find the girl  
While you can  
Come closer and see  
See into the dark  
Just follow your eyes  
Just follow your eyes  
  
I hear her voice  
Calling my name  
The sound is deep  
In the dark  
I hear her voice  
And start to run  
Into the trees  
Into the trees  
  
Into the trees_  
  
In her mind's eye, Karen saw that night with Sören in Reykjavik, and then herself desperately looking for her bag, realizing it had been stolen or lost. She had the sudden mental image of a man with long golden-white hair and a strange ring taking the bag - though she had never seen the man in her life, and didn't know for sure who had taken it. She had the mental image of Sören, calling her number and not getting any response, looking heartbroken, laying awake at night, feeling like he'd been rejected. Crying. The long silver hair again, walking on and on, disappearing, a sudden prickly feeling of _Someone got in the way and prevented the two of you from connecting then._  
  
That of course was madness - accidents happened. There was no _reason_ for anyone to interfere with she and Sören being in touch, no reason for anyone to even know who they were or what was going on.  
  
 _Suddenly I stop  
But I know it's too late  
I'm lost in a forest  
All alone  
The girl was never there  
It's always the same  
I'm running towards nothing  
Again and again and again and again _  
  
The mental image came of Sören, wearing feathers of flame much the same as he had in the painting of himself called _Spirit of Fire_ , glowing like he was made of light, touching things and people and setting them on fire but not destroying them - they became as bright as he was. _Purifying, refining. Showing the truth of what they are._ Sören in a looking glass, walking through...  
  
Karen blinked, feeling a chill, and the pit of her stomach rising. She knew she was a visual thinker and sometimes her thoughts could run away with her but this felt above and beyond that, and she didn't like it.  
  
"You OK?" Sören asked.  
  
Karen nodded.  
  
Sören put an arm around her, and Karen relaxed into his touch. The next song was "New Dawn Fades" by Joy Division, then their song "She's Lost Control". Then it was "Love Will Tear Us Apart", and now it was Sören's turn to be uncomfortable.  
  
 _When routine bites hard,  
And ambitions are low,  
And resentment rides high,  
But emotions won't grow,  
And we're changing our ways,  
Taking different roads.  
  
Then love, love will tear us apart again.  
Love, love will tear us apart again.  
  
Why is the bedroom so cold?  
You've turned away on your side.  
Is my timing that flawed?  
Our respect runs so dry.  
Yet there's still this appeal  
That we've kept through our lives.  
  
But love, love will tear us apart again.  
Love, love will tear us apart again.  
  
You cry out in your sleep,  
All my failings exposed.  
And there's a taste in my mouth,  
As desperation takes hold.  
Just that something so good  
Just can't function no more.  
  
But love, love will tear us apart again.  
Love, love will tear us apart again.  
Love, love will tear us apart again.  
Love, love will tear us apart again. _  
  
"Oh, Sören." Karen knew he was thinking of Anthony.  
  
Sören closed his eyes, nipped at his Guinness, and said, "I'm fine." But the edge in his voice let her know he wasn't really fine at all.  
  
Karen began to pet his curls, and Sören sighed. He tilted his face to kiss her hand and leaned on her as she pet him some more. The next song was a cover of "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths, which seemed eerily appropriate given the circumstances.  
  
 _I am the son  
and the heir  
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and heir  
of nothing in particular  
  
You shut your mouth  
how can you say  
I go about things the wrong way  
I am human and I need to be loved  
just like everybody else does  
_  
  
After that, the band covered "Black No. 1" by Type O Negative - the singer definitely had the right vocal range to sing along with Peter Steele - and Sören managed a smile.  
  
 _Well when I called her evil  
She just laughed.  
And cast that spell on me.  
Boo Bitch Craft.  
  
Yeah you wanna go out  
'cause it's raining and blowing.  
You can't go out  
'cause your roots are showing.  
  
Dye 'em black.  
Dye 'em black._  
  
The band seemed to be poking fun at themselves as much as the crowd they drew, as most of the members had black hair and with at least a couple of them it was obviously dyed.  
  
After that it was "Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus, "So Alive" by Love And Rockets, and "Strangelove" by Depeche Mode. There was more Joy Division - "Transmission", "Disorder", and "Atmosphere". Then the band began doing goth versions of Christmas songs, starting with a very serious rendition of "Jingle Bells" that made the "oh what fun" sound sarcastic, and Sören almost spat his beer, howling and clapping appreciatively. This was followed by a gothy "Little Drummer Boy", and "Silent Night". The ultra deadpan "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" had Sören and Karen in stitches, which was the band's last song of the night. When they were finished, Sören got up to give a standing ovation, and he insisted on tipping the band for a job well done.  
  
Sören and Karen continued to laugh on the way to the Tube station, with Sören imitating the deep, sombre " _Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose..._ "  
  
"That alone was worth the trip." Karen giggled.  
  
"We'll have to see them again," Sören said, "you know, if they're playing when I have off."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
Then Sören chuckled. "What?" Karen asked.  
  
"Oh... we're getting white snow all over our black clothes. Somebody will be by to revoke my goth card shortly."  
  
Back at the flat, Karen served the bouillabaisse and warmed slices of French bread. Nicholas had recommended a white wine such as a sauvignon blanc, which had been chilling in the fridge. Karen also dimmed the lights in the flat and lit candles at the table for atmosphere, which made Sören smile.  
  
A few bites in, Sören paused, a look of rapture on his face. "Oh my god, Karen, this is amazing."  
  
It came out better than she expected, but then she _had_ followed Nicholas's family recipe. "Thank you. One of my neighbors, he has French family, he gave me the recipe."  
  
"Well, he deserves, like, a fucking _medal._ "  
  
"And what do I get?" Karen asked, giving him a mock stern look.  
  
"A fucking."  
  
Karen almost choked on her soup. "I walked into that, didn't I."  
  
Sören nodded, grinning.  
  
Karen threw a heel of bread at him. "Beast."  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören tore into the bread with his teeth, giving her a feral look that made her twinge, wanting to throw him down right here on the table, but that would be awkward when Geir got in.  
  
When they were finished eating Sören insisted on doing dishes. "You're a guest," Karen protested.  
  
"You went to the trouble of cooking, let me do dishes, it's only fair."  
  
Karen couldn't protest too hard, and helped Sören load the dishwasher when each piece was ready. As the dishwasher started running, Karen snuffed out the candles on the table. "You want to go for the tour now?"  
  
"Starting with the books," Sören said.  
  
It made Karen happy to show off her book collection, and happier still to hear Sören comment on which ones he'd read, which ones he hadn't. "You can feel free to borrow from me," Karen said, and then she added, "At some point soon I should bring you around to meet my neighbor, Nicholas - he's the one who gave me the recipe for dinner. He has quite an impressive book collection."  
  
"Oh, I don't want to impose -"  
  
"You're not imposing." Karen sighed and rubbed his shoulders. "I noticed how bare your flat was, and..."  
  
Sören nodded. "Like I said, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I sleep. I read sometimes when I lived with..." His voice trailed off. "Sorry."  
  
Karen gave him a hug. "You're not imposing one bit, Sören. It's time for you to live again, so please, feel free to borrow any titles that interest you."  
  
She showed him her bedroom next, Sören bringing his duffel bag upstairs to her room. Sören smiled at the king-sized bed, and then he made the most adorable squeak when he saw Nemo in his tank, running over to greet the purple-and-white betta fish.  
  
"I love him," Sören said.  
  
Karen turned on the fairy lights around her bed, and Sören squeaked at that, too. Karen grinned at him - he was so cute in his exuberance over little things, though it made her wonder what kind of privation he'd grown up with, knowing he'd had an unhappy childhood. Something told Karen that Sören's austere existence wasn't entirely due to his job, but was due to not really knowing _how_ to live non-minimalist. Karen thought she lived a fairly simple life, though she did like to be comfortable, but apparently even her little creature comforts were luxury to Sören, who ran his hand over the plush, velvety golden-cream comforter of the bed. "Nice," he said. "Soft."  
  
Then he ran his hands over her. "Nice," he repeated. "Soft."  
  
Karen laughed and gave him a little kiss.  
  
"Your room is lovely." Sören sighed. "Anthony's place was really posh, and it was the first time I'd lived someplace... you know." He did a little twirl. "It's good to be somewhere that feels like a home, again."  
  
Karen took his hands, kissed him, and gave him a tight hug. Then they sat and watched Nemo swim around his tank, to Sören's delight. Every now and again Sören would gesture at the fish with his finger and call "here fishie-fishie-fishie" and Nemo would swim towards him, which made Karen laugh.  
  
It was clear Sören loved fish, and Karen got the feeling he was an animal person in general. "Did you and Anthony have any pets?" she asked, curious, and then she wished she hadn't asked that, not wanting to keep ripping open the wound. "Er, sorry -"  
  
"No, it's OK. I mean, I keep talking about him." Sören gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "We didn't, actually, even though we're both cat people. Well... unless you count George."  
  
"...George. Was he a roaming neighborhood cat, or..."  
  
"I named his wig George."  
  
Karen doubled over in hysterics.  
  
Sören grinned - for once a memory of his ex seemed to be happy rather than sad - and then when Karen calmed down, Sören's grin faded into something more wistful. "We'd started to talk about possibly adopting a cat or maybe cats, plural, after we got back from our honeymoon and my hours were less crazy... sort of carrot-and-stick talk to help get me through the hundred-hour weeks of hell, a promise of when life would be 'normal' again... but obviously that didn't work out. And if we _had_ gotten a cat, or cats, it would have been so much worse when what happened, happened, and I left him, having to figure out who gets custody..." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "His mum really wanted grandchildren, to be honest, but a cat would have been complicated enough, never mind adopting kids or getting a surrogate." Sören sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "I'd like a cat, but I work so many hours that I'd feel guilty about it being all by itself a lot of the time."  
  
"That's understandable." Karen felt bad for him again. Then she said, "My friend Nicholas, the one I told you about, has a cat. You'll get to meet him when we bring you over."  
  
"Oh, _good._ Well then, I definitely am down for that, count me in." Sören gave a nervous laugh. "But next week, maybe. I get... ah, kind of shy around new people, need some time to work up to it..."  
  
"Awwwww, OK." Karen leaned over and hugged him.  
  
"I know that sounds weird considering I deal with the public all the time, but there's a difference between, like, people I operate on or send to the MRI machine, and people who might see me with spinach in my teeth."  
  
Karen snorted.  
  
They watched Nemo some more, and then Sören said, "Thank you, again, for... offering to let me borrow books."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"I notice you read poetry." Sören had that wistful smile again.  
  
"I do."  
  
Sören nodded. "When Anthony and I had our first Christmas together, he got me a few volumes of poetry... Whitman, Neruda, Byron... Eliot. I kind of regret not taking them with me when I left. I ended up not taking most of the stuff he gave me over the course of two years. Not because he wanted me to leave it there, but I just..." Sören shrugged. "Couldn't."  
  
"I love T.S. Eliot," Karen said.  
  
Sören took a deep breath and recited from memory.  
  
 _The dove descending breaks the air  
With flame of incandescent terror  
Of which the tongues declare  
The one discharge from sin and error.  
The only hope, or else despair  
Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre-  
To be redeemed from fire by fire.  
  
Who then devised the torment? Love.  
Love is the unfamiliar Name  
Behind the hands that wove  
The intolerable shirt of flame  
Which human power cannot remove.  
We only live, only suspire  
Consumed by either fire or fire._  
  
Karen felt a frisson down her spine. The poetry was beautiful by itself, but in Sören's Icelandic accent he made it his own, the smoky, breathy, dark voice with the lilt and rolling r's musical. Once again, she had the mental image of Sören wearing feathers of flame, glowing, touching people, places, things, lighting them on fire but it made them brighter, more vibrant, _alive_. Their eyes met, and Karen felt that it wasn't just that the universe had dropped Sören into her lap, but catching him was like catching a falling star, something rare, precious...  
  
Karen found herself kissing him, tongue dancing, playing with his like kissing was the only thing in the world that existed. Sören kissed her back as passionately as anything.  
  
They got up and made their way to the bed, undressing on the way there, feverishly kissing, caressing the exposed flesh. Karen took her hair out of its chignon, spilling loose down her shoulders and back, and Sören played with her hair as he kissed her, rubbed her scalp, kisses deepening as he ran his fingers through her hair, twined it around his fingers like it belonged to him. "So beautiful," Sören murmured. They tumbled down on the bed together and just held each other for a moment, naked, looking into each other's eyes.  
  
Then Sören stroked Karen's cheek and husked, "Burn with me, Karen."  
  
Karen kissed him hard and rolled Sören onto his back.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Even though Sören had to work early in the morning, they made love long into the night. Once again Karen lost count of how many times she climaxed, and it almost didn't seem fair that Sören only had three orgasms, albeit they were strong, powerful ones, the last one making him cry.  
  
One of the things that delighted Karen about Sören as a lover was that he was very vocal. She hadn't had extensive sexual experience before him, but she'd been with a few guys and they'd all been fairly quiet, only giving the occasional grunt or so. Sören was a screamer, and she _loved_ the way he lost control, voice getting louder and louder. Though, she had a pang of guilt, thinking about Geir, and hoped that he had in fact used headphones or earplugs, not wanting to disturb his sleep.  
  
Sören grumbled when the alarm went off. Karen made coffee and brought it to him in bed, and pet him as he drank. Sören then managed to peel himself out of bed and go down to the bathroom to take a shower - "alone, or I might not leave for work," he said with a wicked grin, making Karen giggle, face on fire.  
  
Karen found herself curling up in bed, reading T.S. Eliot as she listened to the shower and Sören _singing_ in the shower, belting out "How Soon Is Now" by The Smiths. Then the shower turned off, and things were quiet again...  
  
...and then Karen heard Sören let out a "MEEP!" like Beaker from the Muppets. She spluttered, and immediately felt guilty for laughing when she heard Sören stammer, "Oh god, I'm sorry..."  
  
"No, don't be sorry," came Geir's voice. "It's quite all right. You're far from the only near-naked man I've ever seen."  
  
Sören wandered back into Karen's room with a towel. "Geir got an eyeful," he said, his face beetroot, though the gleam in his eye and the way his face broke into a slow, evil, smug little grin told Karen that he wasn't really sorry. Karen got the distinct feeling Geir wasn't sorry either.  
  
Before Sören left, he handed her a folded-up piece of paper that she opened, and saw a list of numbers in black pen. "That's my schedule for the next fortnight, the times I work and scheduled breaks. So you can see my days off, or what time I'm available on workdays, and if you ever want to swing by National and say hi on my break..." Sören swallowed. "Anthony used to come by when I was pulling long shifts, gave me coffee and hugs."  
  
That somehow didn't jibe with someone who'd cheated on Sören and broken his heart, and made the breakup even more tragic. Karen could see why Sören was having a hard time letting go. She gave the schedule a perfunctory glance and nodded. "Thank you for this, that'll make coordinating dates easier."  
  
"And like I said, I have this upcoming Saturday night off, and Sunday. I don't often get full weekends off, this is only partial, but..."  
  
"We'll think of something."  
  
"Something."  
  
"Something." Karen winked at him.  
  
Sören turned beetroot again, and grinned. He let the towel slip to the floor, and Karen watched his ass as he walked over to the duffel bag sitting on the chair by the bed, regretting he had to work so early.  
  
They lingered at the door when Sören was ready to go.  
  
"I had fun last night," Sören said.  
  
"I did too."  
  
They kissed. "So I'll see you again on Saturday, _elskan_?"  
  
Karen nodded. "And we'll make plans as to what between now and then... when you're more awake." Sören already looked exhausted and his day hadn't started yet; she of course hadn't helped, keeping him up so late, but she didn't think he really minded.  
  
"I can give you a call tomorrow when I get home?"  
  
"Perfect." They kissed again. Karen gave him a tight squeeze. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I love you too." Sören kissed the top of her head.  
  
Karen watched him down the sidewalk, and breathed a little sigh when he disappeared out of sight. When she closed the door, Geir came downstairs.  
  
"So you guys enjoyed yourselves, I take it."  
  
"Very much." Karen nodded.  
  
"So I heard."  
  
"Oh... oh god." Karen facepalmed. "Through the earplugs and everything?"  
  
"Well, after awhile I gave up with the earplugs." Geir sat down on the couch with a sigh. "You're very lucky, Karen. Hot _and_ a screamer." Then Geir frowned and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking that way about your boyfriend -"  
  
"No, Geir, it's better we be honest with each other, and I can't blame you for fancying him."  
  
"I don't know that you could call it that -"  
  
Karen put a hand on her hip. "I used to be a barrister, Geir."  
  
"OK. Yes, I admit, I'm attracted to him. If you want me to be really honest, I got turned on listening to him last night. But..." Geir shook his head. "He's your boyfriend, and I love and respect you, and -"  
  
"Geir." Karen pursed her lips. She sat down. "Sören and I have an open relationship."  
  
Geir blinked and his eyes widened. "Oh."  
  
"He insisted on that up front, because his ex cheated on him when he was working a hundred hours a week, and while that doesn't excuse it, Sören thinks that it would have made a difference if they'd been non-exclusive from the beginning. I agreed to that, because, well, it's practical, and it does seem like a lot of serial monogamy ends in failure. And Sören is bi -"  
  
"He did set off my gaydar," Geir said, "so I wondered."  
  
Karen nodded. "So if you're interested in him, I have no problem with that. In fact... if he's going to have a boyfriend, or a male friend-with-benefits, I'd prefer it to be someone I know and trust, I don't want to see him get his heart broken again." Karen put a hand on Geir's shoulder. "So you have my permission and my blessing to pursue Sören."  
  
"All right." Geir took a deep breath. "Hopefully he won't turn me down."  
  
"Ohhh, something tells me he might be amenable to the idea of spending time with you." Karen thought of the saucy grin on Sören's face after Geir had seen him in the towel.  
  
"I hope so."  
  
"He gave me his schedule, including his breaks. He has off this Saturday night and all of Sunday - I'd be OK with foregoing my date with him then and making up for it next week if you wanted to go out with him, but I'd recommend giving him a call or maybe stopping by National on his break to..."  
  
"Yes, Karen, I know how to ask a guy out."  
  
Karen giggled, face on fire. "Sorry, I'm doing the mum thing again, aren't I."  
  
"Yes, you are." Geir patted her head. "But at least you didn't say _as you know_."  
  
" _Shan't_ ," Karen said in an imitation of Nicholas's cultured basso, and they laughed together.


	5. Spark

Sören breathed a sigh of relief as he saw there wasn't a queue at the counter of the hospital cafe, not wanting to have his precious break time carved up by waiting in line. And then, just before he could approach the counter he heard a voice call his name. "Sören!"  
  
Sören froze, and looked in the direction of the voice. His mouth opened with surprise as he looked into those beautiful bright blue eyes, and he swallowed hard, stomach doing flip-flops as his eyes raked Geir Strøm up and down - the black fauxhawk and goatee, the chiseled features, the lithe body. Sören remembered how nervous he'd been when Geir came for his appointments, tongue-tied in the presence of such beauty, and of course Karen had made things even more difficult that first time. Sören felt stupid and flustered all over again, and took a few deep breaths to pull himself together.  
  
Sören walked up to Geir's table and noticed he had two chocolate espressos with whipped cream. Geir pushed one over to Sören who laughed softly.  
  
"How did you know?" Sören asked.  
  
"I guessed, honestly." Geir smiled. "Unless you mean knew when your break was. Karen told me."  
  
"I see." Sören sat down. He took a sip of the chocolate espresso, relieved and grateful that he hadn't had to wait for it. As he reached to pull his wallet out of his scrubs, Geir waved his hand.  
  
"No need to pay me back," Geir said.  
  
"All right." Sören cocked his head to one side. "What brings you here?" Sören felt a little twinge of anxiety - it was rare that a patient or former patient had issues with him, usually for delivering news they didn't want to hear. In this case Geir didn't have anything wrong with him that Sören could tell from the CAT scan and MRI, and Sören was hoping Geir wasn't here to insist more tests be run. Sören took another sip of his drink.  
  
"Well..." Geir took a deep breath. "I came to ask you on a date."  
  
Sören almost spat his drink. He found Geir very attractive, and he'd gotten the impression it was mutual, but at the same time Sören was surprised, feeling like damaged goods since the breakup with Anthony. Sören leaned back in his chair. "Does Karen know?" Though he and Karen were in an open relationship, he still wanted to make sure she was informed, not wanting to go behind her back with partners. _Unlike some people._  
  
Geir grinned. "Why do you think she told me when your breaks were?"  
  
Sören facepalmed - that should have been more obvious - and he chuckled. He pulled his hand away from his face, which was on fire now. "Jæja. OK then."  
  
"So is that a yes?"  
  
The flip-flops in Sören's stomach were now cartwheels. He nodded, grinning.  
  
"Good." Geir's eyes twinkled. "Karen told me she was willing to cede Saturday night to me and take a rain check if..."  
  
"Oh." Sören blinked. That was also unexpected. He'd been looking forward to seeing Karen again, but... "So she really doesn't mind." He'd been hoping that she wasn't actually going along with the open relationship to make him happy, but this seemed like proof she was in fact actually OK with it.  
  
"Karen and I are very close," Geir said. "She's not just my roommate, but she's my best friend and I'm hers. We do nice things for each other."  
  
"I'm glad you have that kind of bond." And Sören felt a twinge, missing Anthony all of a sudden - they hadn't just been lovers, and in love, but they were also each other's best friend, and Sören missed the friendship between them as much as he missed the sex, the cuddling, the tenderness.  
  
"So... Saturday night?"  
  
"We can do that."  
  
"Is there anything particular you'd like to do?"  
  
 _You,_ Sören thought to himself, biting his lower lip, but he restrained the knee-jerk mind-in-gutter response. His cock stirred, thinking of what it would be like to go to bed with Geir. That charity auction date with Aurelio Fiorella that had turned into an entire weekend was an oasis in a very dry spell. Sören knew he was looking at dating men again, but here a very sexy man had fallen right into his lap, and Sören was _thirsty_.  
  
Even though Sören tried to behave himself, Geir seemed to catch the response-not-voiced, giving him a pointed look. Sören cleared his throat, took a sip of his chocolate espresso, and stroked his beard, thinking. The last time he'd felt devil-may-care like this had been in Reykjavik, when he used to unwind from his shifts by going out to clubs - not even for casual sex, though that was often the end result, but just to dance. "You want to go to a nightclub? Go dancing? I, ah, I used to go clubbing a lot and I found it stress relieving..."  
  
"Oh, we could do that." Geir nodded.  
  
"Really? I don't want to make you have a pain flare -" Sören felt a little self-conscious, realizing he should have asked about that first.  
  
"No, I'd enjoy it. And the pain's been better."  
  
"That's good. It's very cathartic. Dancing, I mean," Sören said. He echoed something similar that he'd said to Anthony when their relationship was fairly new. "I felt sort of like I was performing an exorcism when I used to go to clubs in Reykjavik. Got out of my head for awhile. It's very ancient, very primal, transcending to another state of consciousness. Almost, ah, shamanic."  
  
"I agree," Geir said. Their eyes met. "You get it."  
  
"Oh." Sören blinked, surprised that Geir felt it too, even though he knew he perhaps shouldn't have been, with someone who played music for a living.  
  
"Yeah." Geir nodded. "I've loved all kinds of music as long as I can remember. I can feel the stories in the songs. I can feel the passion, the pain..." Geir's voice trailed off, and now he was beetroot.  
  
"That's beautiful," Sören said softly. "And you're right - every song is a story, something someone created to preserve a memory or a feeling, something..." He searched for the right word in English. "Ephemeral? Is that it?"  
  
"That's it. Your English is very good, by the way."  
  
Sören snorted. "It had better be good, I started learning it in school when I was six."  
  
"They teach it that young in Iceland?"  
  
"Jæja, the world doesn't speak Icelandic." Sören was always amazed when non-Icelanders remarked on how well the average Icelander could communicate in English. English didn't come quite as naturally to him as his native language and he was prone to lapsing into his native language in the heat of anger - or passion - but it was easy enough for him and he'd now lived in London long enough that he found himself thinking in a weird blend of Icelandic and English.  
  
"I'm sorry," Geir said. "I didn't mean to offend you -"  
  
"No, it's OK. Just know, we're not as exotic as everyone thinks we are. But then you probably get that yourself, being from Norway." Sören found himself curious, wanting to know more about Geir. "So you said you're here because of the Orchestra?

Geir nodded. "I was playing with a symphony in Oslo and I got headhunted for the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House in London."  
  
Sören let out a low whistle. "You must be good."

"I love playing the flute."

Sören's mind immediately went into the gutter. "I bet."

Geir's mind was apparently as filthy as his. He chuckled, blue eyes twinkling. "Indeed." He winked. "But yes, I came all this way for the love of the flute."  
  
"I can relate. I came all this way to specialize in neurosurgery."  
  
"You ever think about going back?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "I'm applying for citizenship next year. I... left Iceland under bad circumstances." Sören wasn't going to get into the rape here and now, not in a semi-public place, and he didn't want to scare Geir away with his issues. "England is home now." _It would have been moreso if Anthony and I had gotten married._ But there was nothing that could be done, now. And Sören had been here before he got together with Anthony, and his job was keeping him here. Now he seemed to have at least two other reasons to stay.  
  
"I'm sorry," Geir said simply.  
  
"It was rough," Sören said. "Then it got better for awhile, and then it... got rough again. I assume Karen told you I was engaged to be married and I was cheated on."  
  
"She did." Geir nodded. "She explained that was why your terms were non-monogamy up front..."  
  
"OK, so I don't have to have that conversation with you. Same applies to you," Sören said, gesturing across the table before he took another sip of his drink. "I don't care if you see other people, I just want to know about it." Sören's voice lowered even more. "I'm about to start Truvada." Geir nodded, and Sören was relieved he didn't have to explain PrEP to prevent HIV. Sören went on, "I don't have a lot of time, but there is a possibility I may date people besides you and Karen."  
  
"I can live with that. Honestly I'm relieved, because I'd like to see where this goes, but I also don't want to be... tied down." Then Geir blurted out, "Usually I'm the one doing the tying."  
  
Sören's eyes widened, and his laughter rang out, enough that even though they were trying to keep their voices down to not share their business with the entire cafe, now some people were staring at them. It made Sören laugh harder. His face was on fire again, and his cock throbbed, thinking of how much he'd loved it when Anthony tied him up. How much he'd missed that feeling of surrender... Sören swallowed hard. "I see."  
  
"I'm sorry, that was probably -"  
  
"You're fine." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "I, ah." He rubbed his curls nervously. "I. Have some experience with being on the receiving end."  
  
"Well then." Geir sipped his coffee. "I shall file that information away."  
  
"In the meantime... dancing on Saturday?"  
  
"Yes. Dancing. Feeling. Releasing." Their gaze locked.  
  
"Do you want to pick the club, or do you want me to do it?"  
  
"I can do it to free up your time," Geir said. "I assume you'd like to go to a gay club?"  
  
"I'd prefer that, yes. Less chance of us being harassed." Sören frowned.  
  
"Did you want to go out to dinner first?"  
  
"I would. You have any preferences?"  
  
"I'm flexible."  
  
Sören's mind once again went into the gutter, thinking about Geir working out... and what that implied, being athletic and limber in the bedroom. "I bet," he muttered before he could stop himself, then immediately felt self-conscious.  
  
Geir laughed, his entire face lighting up. "Great minds."  
  
"Dirty minds."  
  
Geir gave him a knowing little smile. "This is already working out quite nicely."  
  
"It is." Sören looked at the clock, and winced, knowing he would have to get back to work soon. "What time on Saturday?"  
  
"How does seven work?"  
  
"Seven works for me. Should I pick you up at your place in Covent Garden?"  
  
"OK."  
  
Sören finished his coffee. "I look forward to it. And now unfortunately, I have to get ready to scrub back in..."  
  
"I understand." Geir got up from the table, and so did Sören. "Thank you."  
  
"No, thank you." Sören smiled and took his hands - usually he didn't like touching strangers' hands, but Geir wasn't a stranger now.  
  
And then Geir came over and gave him a hug. "I'll take good care of you, Sören," he whispered, arms tightening around him.  
  
Not thinking, just feeling, Sören grabbed Geir's face and kissed him hard. A few seconds into the kiss Sören realized there were other people in the cafe and they were making a scene, and he didn't care. Geir kissed him back - the feel of their tongues meeting, licking together sensuously made Sören moan into the kiss, hardening in his scrubs. Geir's hands slid over Sören's back, making his spine tingle, giving Sören gooseflesh, making his nipples ache. The kiss deepened, like they wanted to eat each other alive, and Sören had the wild, mad urge to throw Geir down on the table and ride him. But he kept that impulse in check. And he didn't want to break the kiss besides, kissing and kissing like it was the only thing that existed in the world. Their tongues continued to play together, swirling, teasing. Sören _wanted_. His entire body felt electrified.  
  
Geir's blue eyes were like flame as he sucked on Sören's lower lip and then he pulled back, breathing harder. "I better let you get back to work before, you know, I can't." He laughed.  
  
Sören laughed too. "OK."  
  
But before Sören could walk off, now Geir grabbed him and kissed him again. The way Geir groaned into the kiss made Sören crazy, and crazier still as they rubbed their tongues together between kisses, kissing more deeply, insistently.  
  
They pulled apart and Sören's body was screaming for sexual release. "OK, now I." Sören couldn't finish the sentence. He couldn't make words.  
  
Geir gave him a wicked grin. He squeezed Sören's arm, winked, and then he walked off with his coffee, leaving Sören breathless.  
  
Sören had reserved himself enough time to hit the restroom before he had to scrub in, and as soon as his scrub bottoms and underwear were down he grabbed his hard cock and stroked, thinking about Geir's mouth on him, sucking him, then kissing him as they took turns inside each other. Sören bit his lip and made a little high-pitched noise, fighting back a cry as he climaxed hard, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall and trembling, gasping for breath as his knees buckled. "Fuck," he panted.  
  
It had been a long time since anyone other than Anthony had that effect on him, making him feel like a horny teenager again. He felt a little embarrassed, and yet as he washed up he couldn't help but smile.


	6. Rhythm of the Night

Karen was once again in a cheerful mood when she headed to The Raven's Roost for her usual Saturday morning breakfast with Nicholas Decaux - happiness rubbing off from Geir, who was for a change accompanying her. Geir had been up early training, and now he was hungry, not to mention a little hyper in anticipation of his date with Sören that evening.  
  
Nicholas was already waiting at their table when they arrived, and he smiled at Karen, then his eyes widened and his smile broadened when he saw Geir was with her. "Hello, dear," Nicholas said, pulling out a chair for Karen, old-fashioned. Then he rose and took Geir's hand. "Geir."  
  
"Good morning, Dad," Geir said as he sat down. "I made her drag me along."  
  
Nicholas chuckled. "Yes, as you know I usually don't see you here."  
  
Geir and Karen glanced at each other and tried to restrain their laughter. _That's one,_ Karen thought to herself as Geir placed one finger on her knee under the table.  
  
"Your usual should be on its way," Nicholas said to Karen, gently pushing over a cup of tea.  
  
"Thanks," Karen said.  
  
The menus were in a rack on Nicholas's side of the table. Geir asked him, "Can I see a menu, please?"  
  
"You're physically capable of looking at one, yes," Nicholas replied.  
  
Karen snorted and Geir kicked her under the table. He narrowed his eyes at Nicholas. "May I please have a menu."  
  
Nicholas passed over a menu and Karen grinned at Nicholas, whose lips quirked in a small smile. Geir opened the menu and scowled as he scanned it. "Shit, I can't have most of what's on here," Geir said; he ate a high-protein, low-carb diet.  
  
"There is a low-carb section," Nicholas said, and pointed.  
  
"Ah, OK." After a moment of silently browsing, Geir said, "The Western omelette sounds good. It still skirts the line of what I should be eating, but." Geir shrugged.  
  
"I'm sure you'll be burning it off later," Karen quipped.  
  
Geir flushed beetroot, and hid his face with the menu.  
  
"Oh, are you going to the gym today?" Nicholas asked, raising his eyebrows slightly as he sipped his tea.  
  
"He has a date later," Karen supplied.  
  
Now it was Nicholas's turn to go pink. "Er."  
  
Nicholas and Karen got their breakfasts - hot buttered toast with apricot jam for Nicholas, crumpets with cream and honey for Karen - and Geir ordered his breakfast. A few minutes later, Nicholas resumed the conversation. "So, you have a date," Nicholas said.  
  
Geir nodded. "This evening."  
  
"I was telling Karen last week that she should bring her beau over for dinner one of these nights, and now I'll extend the invitation to you as well. It would be nice to meet both of your boyfriends, cook for the four of you..."  
  
Geir and Karen exchanged glances. Karen swallowed. She knew that sooner or later the topic of being in an open relationship with Sören would come up in conversation with Nicholas, but she hadn't expected it to be this immediate.  
  
"Well," Geir said at the same time as Karen said, "You see..."  
  
Nicholas raised an eyebrow and put his toast down, waiting.  
  
Geir and Karen looked at each other again and Geir gestured to her. Karen sat up straighter in her chair and took a deep breath. _Here goes._ "Geir is going on a date with Sören."  
  
"...The gentleman you're seeing?"  
  
Karen nodded. "Sören is bisexual and we're... in an open relationship. We have freedom to see other people, so long as we're honest about it. Geir found himself drawn to Sören too so I gave him my blessing to ask him out."  
  
Nicholas showed no reaction other than blinking at first, then he took a bite of his toast and seemed to be reflecting on what he'd just been told. At last he said, "Well, are you happy?"  
  
"It's too soon to tell," Geir said truthfully, "since this is our first date and all, but..."  
  
"I think we'll be fine," Karen said. "Sören has a good heart."  
  
"As you know I came of age in the 1960s," Nicholas said, with Geir placing two fingers on Karen's knee under the table, "during the 'peace and free love' era. And as you know I went into the priesthood, for a time..." Geir placed three fingers on Karen's knee and she fought back a laugh. "But it's not a concept I'm entirely unfamiliar with, and I try not to judge what consenting adults do if they're not hurting anyone and they're happy."  
  
Karen breathed a small sigh of relief. She hadn't been _that_ worried about Nicholas being judgmental, but there was still a small part of her that had wanted to postpone the subject just the same, perhaps because Nicholas was like a father to her and she had no intentions of telling her own parents anytime soon if ever that she was in an open relationship with a bisexual man.  
  
Then Nicholas chuckled softly as he drank his tea. "What?" Geir asked.  
  
"It's one less person I have to cook for," Nicholas said.  
  
Karen laughed too. "There is that."  
  
"So do you have anything exciting planned this evening?"  
  
Geir blushed, but kept his answer chaste. "We're going to a Japanese restaurant and then to a nightclub that's having a 70s disco night. Karen also told me Sören makes art in his spare time so when I called to touch base with him yesterday I asked if he'd bring over his portfolio."  
  
"A doctor who's also an artist? He sounds very interesting."  
  
"Hopefully it won't be too much longer for you to meet him," Karen said. "A family dinner with the four of us sounds nice." Karen smiled thinking about it, having a warm fuzzy feeling.  
  
"It does, doesn't it." And then Nicholas gave a little sigh, looking out the front window of the cafe.  
  
"Are you OK?" Karen asked, feeling a pang of concern.  
  
"Oh, I'm all right. Just..." Nicholas gave a nervous laugh and put his tea down. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you both to have found someone, but..."  
  
"Oh, Dad." Karen felt a tight ache in her chest, a lump in her throat. She reached out and put a hand on Nicholas's arm.  
  
"As you know the Church didn't 'fix' me and I left due to a crisis of faith which still hasn't resolved itself... and I'd been closeted so many years, and of course as you know the AIDS epidemic made trying to find a partner too risky, enough that I didn't try." Geir rested an entire hand on Karen's knee, for five _as you knows._ Nicholas's brow furrowed. "By the time HIV stopped being a death sentence I was too old, too set in my ways. But from time to time it does get lonely." Nicholas looked away and said, "I apologize. I shan't continue on like this and spoil your happiness -"  
  
"Oh Dad, it's OK." Karen patted his arm, and Geir reached across the table and took Nicholas's hand. "There's nothing wrong with feeling the need for companionship."  
  
"I suppose not," Nicholas said. "But I wouldn't even know where to start."  
  
"There's dating apps now which make things easier -"  
  
Nicholas snorted. " _I shan't._ It's bad enough that I have to use a cell phone, never mind trying to use an _app._ I feel ludicrous even using the _word_ app..."  
  
Karen tried not to giggle, and failed, and Geir shook with silent laughter. Nicholas gave them a stern look, but then his eyes softened and his lips quirked. "Yes, as you can see, this is an exhibit of being set in my ways." Nicholas sipped his tea. "It is probably too late in life for me to find a suitable partner, but at least I have my kids." He smiled fondly at Karen and Geir.  
  
"We appreciate you, Dad," Geir said.  
  
"And I appreciate you both. More than I can say."  
  
After breakfast, Nicholas walked Geir and Karen back to their flat, and when Nicholas left, Geir and Karen lingered in the kitchen.  
  
"We should try to find Dad a blind date or something," Karen said.  
  
Geir shook his head. "I think he'd be furious with us if we did that. Besides... this sounds weird, but maybe someone will... drop into his life, like the way we found each other, the way you found Dad, the way your path crossed with Sören..."  
  
"Hm, yeah, maybe you're right." Karen laughed at what came out of her mouth next. "Dad needs a Sören."  
  
"Exactly. He needs to just find someone without trying to find someone. That someone may be closer than we all think."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören arrived promptly at seven, his stomach doing flip-flops as he waited outside the door. When Geir opened Sören felt himself breaking out into a big grin, and he handed over the long stem red rose he'd brought, bundled together with baby's breath.  
  
Geir blushed charmingly, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling as he took the rose. "You're so thoughtful, Sören, thank you."  
  
It came out before Sören could stop himself. "I have plenty of... thoughts."  
  
Geir chuckled, his blush deepening, and then he grabbed Sören and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss. Sören moaned as he crushed Geir against him, tongues playing together feverishly, urgently. For a brief moment Sören thought about marching Geir to the couch, saying "fuck going out", and riding Geir for all he was worth, but then his stomach growled and Geir smiled as he kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
"Let me put this in water and then we can be off," Geir said.  
  
Sören followed Geir inside and deposited his overnight bag by the couch. Besides a change of clothes he'd brought his portfolio as requested, though he was a little nervous about showing other people his work, even after art shows, even after Aurelio Fiorella being impressed enough to buy four paintings, even after close to two years of Anthony regularly admiring and complimenting. But it was an important part of who and what Sören was, and he was glad his new partner was taking an interest. That was promising.  
  
Geir himself was a work of art, dressed up like a highwayman all in black. Sören was also all in black - a ruffly pirate blouse and black leather pants. For the first time in a long time Sören was wearing mascara and eyeliner, and had painted his nails black with violet sparkles. He also had a surprise for Geir later - Sören was wearing a lacy black thong under his trousers, and a buttplug. He hadn't worn sexy underwear or a buttplug since he was with Anthony. Something told him he was going to need to be open for later.  
  
They took a taxi to the Japanese restaurant, where they had reservations. Geir noticed Sören was a bit nervous and hesitant as he went over the menu.  
  
"Are you OK?" Geir asked.  
  
Sören nodded. He decided to be honest. "I... I've never had Japanese food before."  
  
" _Really._ "  
  
Sören realized he sounded uncultured. "Jæja, I've had Indian, I've had Thai... I've even had Caribbean food, I can make a mean jerk chicken..." Sören laughed self-consciously. "But never this."  
  
"Oh, I wish you'd told me, you didn't _have_ to say yes to my suggestion -"  
  
"Oh no! I want to try new things. I'm adventurous." Sören's mind immediately went into the gutter, and Geir gave him a pointed look. Sören's face was on fire now. "I just... don't know what to get. Do you have any suggestions?"  
  
"I was going to load up on sushi," Geir said. "It's seaweed wrapped around rice and a bit of fish, sometimes fish and a veg. The fish is raw. It's better than it sounds, I promise you -"  
  
"Jæja, you _are_ talking to an Icelander. I've eaten shark." Sören immediately thought of Anthony, and for once it brought a smile rather than pain. He did love teasing Anthony about the epithet given him by the legal community. "I'll go with that, then."  
  
They ordered two sushi platters, a pot of green tea, and they each had a glass of saké. When the food came Geir pointed out the different sushi varieties to him - spicy tuna rolls, unagi roll which had eel, spider roll which had crab and cucumber and avocado. The platter also had nigiri, fish on top of rice - tiger shrimp, raw tuna, raw salmon. There was also raw ginger, and a few cups of condiments - fish roe, teriyaki sauce, and wasabi paste.  
  
"The wasabi paste is very spicy," Geir warned.  
  
Sören put a generous dollop on a tiger shrimp on rice and popped it into his mouth just as Geir's eyes widened with alarm and he blurted out, "Oh no, Sören no, you're gonna die -"  
  
Sören's eyes started to water and his sinuses cleared and his face flushed. Heat seared his mouth but not entirely unpleasant. He chewed slowly and poured himself a cup of green tea. Geir was in hysterics as Sören calmly sipped the tea. "That was interesting," Sören said.  
  
"I take it you like things hot."  
  
"I like it very hot."  
  
Geir gave Sören another pointed look, and now Sören was warm from more than just the wasabi.  
  
Sören used only slightly less wasabi for the rest of his nagiri, which made Geir chuckle. Then Geir taught Sören how to use chopsticks, which took a few tries but he got it, and Sören used chopsticks for the sushi rolls, which he dipped into the wasabi paste and added shreds of raw ginger to for even more heat.  
  
"You are unreal," Geir said. "Are you part dragon?"  
  
"Maybe. Depends on which part."  
  
Geir almost choked on his sushi.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören offered.  
  
"No you're not." Geir grinned as he sipped his saké.  
  
"I'm not," Sören said honestly. "You're cute when you're all flustered."  
  
Geir got flustered again, proving Sören's point. Sören felt that little tingle; he was _really_ looking forward to jumping Geir later.  
  
"You're just cute," Geir told him.  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to be flustered. " _Takk._ " He had more green tea and sushi, and then he asked, "So how did you get into sushi?"  
  
"My first serious boyfriend was Japanese," Geir said.  
  
"Ah." Sören raised an eyebrow. "How long ago was that?"  
  
"I was nineteen, twenty," Geir said. "I'll be twenty-five in January."  
  
"I just turned thirty last month," Sören said.  
  
"Oh, so you're an older guy."  
  
Sören gave him a mock stern look. "Watch it, you."  
  
Geir snickered. "I meant no offense." He gave Sören an innocent face. "He was a little older than me, too."  
  
"So what happened?" Sören cocked his head to one side, curious.  
  
"Different paths in life. Not a major blowout or anything, just realizing we wouldn't be compatible longer-term. We tried to stay friends afterwards but we fell out of touch." Geir shrugged. "I think he's in Copenhagen now."  
  
"Have you dated since then?"  
  
"Not seriously. Not in awhile. I'd really isolated myself after I had a polyp on my throat in March 2013. It almost ended my career playing flute. It was depressing."  
  
"I feel that." Sören sighed. "I work crazy hours and I have no time. Though it seems like the universe has given me a big kick in the arse to start making time, I guess."  
  
"Funny how that works out."  
  
Then Sören felt a twinge of concern. "How have your symptoms been? The headaches, body pain..."  
  
Geir chuckled. "A little better. Here's hoping it was just stress, like you said."  
  
"Here's hoping I can help you get some stress relief."  
  
Geir gave Sören a wicked grin.  
  
When their check came Sören insisted on paying for both of them, and tipped generously. They took a taxi to the nightclub in Charing Cross in companionable silence, holding hands, and when they got to the club and checked their coats, Geir stole a kiss in the coatroom.  
  
The club was having a 70s disco night, and Sören smiled as they strolled in to "Dancing Queen" by ABBA. Geir grabbed Sören's hands and pulled him onto the dance floor and they grabbed each other's waists, doing a sort of waltz but with bumping and grinding. Already Sören was horny, and he couldn't stop smiling, laughing as he and Geir moved together in the blue and purple lighting.  
  
Sören felt a sharp pang suddenly as he thought of when Anthony took him to Stockholm and they saw the ABBA Museum and under the influence of vodka Sören sang a few ABBA songs, one of them being this one. Geir noticed the pinched look on Sören's face and stroked Sören's cheek.  
  
"Hey," Geir said. "Forget that guy. I'm here."  
  
As if on cue, "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor started. Sören threw back his head and laughed, singing along:  
  
 _At first I was afraid, I was petrified  
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side  
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong  
And I grew strong, and I learned how to get along_  
  
Geir smiled and began to whirl Sören around. They found a rhythm together, stepping back and forth, side to side, twirling, dipping.  
  
 _It took all the strength I had not to fall apart  
Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart  
And I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself  
I used to cry but now I hold my head up high  
  
And you see me somebody new  
I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you  
And so you felt like dropping in  
And just expect me to be free  
And now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me  
  
Go on now, go. Walk out the door  
Just turn around now 'cause you're not welcome anymore  
Weren't you the one who tried to break me with goodbye?  
Did you think I'd crumble?  
Did you think I'd lay down and die?  
Oh, no, not I  
I will survive  
Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive  
I've got all my life to live  
I've got all my love to give  
And I'll survive  
I will survive_  
  
After that, "Rock With You" by Michael Jackson came on. "I love this song," Sören said. Geir pulled Sören closer.  
  
 _Girl, close your eyes  
Let that rhythm get into you  
Don't try to fight it  
There ain't nothin' that you can do  
Relax your mind  
Lay back and groove with mine  
You got to feel the heat  
And we can ride the boogie  
Share that beat of love  
  
I wanna rock with you (all night)  
Dance you into day (sunlight)  
I wanna rock with you (all night)  
We're gonna rock the night away_  
  
Sören couldn't help grinning; this song always put a smile on his face, and that was infectious, Geir grinning back at him.  
  
 _Out on the floor  
There ain't nobody there but us  
Girl, when you dance  
There's a magic that must be love_  
  
The song felt like _theirs_. The night felt like theirs. Geir pulled Sören into a kiss and Sören melted, shivering as Geir's hands slid up from Sören's waist to his chest, a thumb teasingly brushing a pierced nipple through Sören's shirt, pebbling it.  
  
"Ring My Bell" by Anita Ward was on next, making Sören giggle because he did, indeed, want Geir to ring his bell. Geir seemed to know what Sören was thinking, hands continuing to play over Sören's body as they danced. "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" by Sylvester made Sören squeak and clap, not only did he love this song but he appreciated that it was by an actual gay man. Geir and Sören danced more energetically, leaping and spinning, and they took a break to get water after the song was over.  
  
They sat out for the next two songs, just watching the crowd, leaning on each other. They came back in for "Boogie Oogie Oogie" by A Taste of Honey, followed by "September" by Earth Wind and Fire, "Don't Leave Me This Way" by Thelma Houston, and "Le Freak" by Chic. Sören felt high from all the endorphins of dancing, and all he'd had was one small glass of saké at the restaurant. He had missed this so much, going out and moving like this, having someone to dance with, connecting with them through rhythm. It felt downright magical, a bond happening that transcended words. Sören felt like he was coming alive again, quickening that fire inside him, and having Geir to bear witness and share it with him felt intimate, cathartic, healing.  
  
"Love To Love You" by Donna Summer came on, and Sören's face burned, mind going right into the gutter again. Geir's hands wandered over Sören like they had earlier, but this time they lingered on Sören's nipples, and when he pulled Sören close, Sören could feel Geir was hard too. "I think," Geir whispered, "we should leave after this song." He began to kiss Sören's neck.  
  
They made out in the taxi on the way home - the driver drove at a breakneck speed, seeming to be eager to get rid of them - and when they were let off on the curb Sören giggled at the irate look the driver gave them as they got out. Geir grabbed Sören again and kissed him, and they kissed all the way inside, kicking off their boots.  
  
In the heat of passion Sören's overnight bag was forgotten by the couch. They ran upstairs as quickly as they could, with Sören out of breath at the top of the stairs, needing to puff on his inhaler, and then Geir slammed Sören against the wall of the hallway, kissing him passionately. Sören moaned into the kiss and Geir groaned, and once again their hard bulges pressed together, the two rubbing against each other right there in the hallway as the kiss deepened. They kissed their way into Geir's bedroom, and began undressing each other.  
  
At last Geir was naked and fully erect, and Sören was in the lacy black thong underwear. Geir's eyes raked him, and he reached out to caress the hard erection in the thong. "Nice," Geir said.  
  
"I wanted to wear sexy underwear for you." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
"I appreciate the effort. Of course, it's not going to stay on long." With that, Geir dropped to his knees and took the waistband of the thong into his teeth, yanking the thong down to Sören's knees with his teeth, freeing Sören's cock, which jolted and dripped precum. Geir took a moment to admire the piercing in Sören's cock, and then after Sören stepped out of the underwear, Geir took a lick at Sören's cock, and played with the piercing with his tongue. Sören moaned, and again when Geir took another lick.  
  
"You're beautiful," Geir husked. "All of you." With that, he took Sören's cock into his mouth.  
  
Geir's mouth was too good, sucking away at him, working his tongue as he sucked, and Sören was so pent up that he felt himself flung to that edge of climax right away. His knees buckled and he gasped, "Geir."  
  
Geir stopped just before Sören could come, rising up and kissing him. Sören made a high-pitched noise as he felt Geir's hard cock slide up against his, and Geir led him to the bed, kissing him all the way.  
  
They lay there, looking into each other's eyes, and then Geir placed two fingers under Sören's chin and tilted his face to kiss him, as the fingers of his free hand walked down Sören's body, from his shoulder down to a nipple to his stomach, making Sören break into gooseflesh, spine tingling, cock throbbing.  
  
"What would you like?" Geir asked.  
  
"You," Sören said.  
  
Geir laughed. "More specific."  
  
Sören kissed him. Now it was his turn to run his hands over Geir's body, admiring the sculpted, toned physique. "I'd love to paint you," Sören whispered. "But tonight, I'd like to use my tongue as a brush."  
  
"Mmmmmm." They kissed. "Only if I can return the favor." Geir tugged on one of Sören's nipple rings.  
  
"Of course." With that, Sören rolled Geir onto his back and kissed him again and again, hands continuing to play over Geir's arms and chest and stomach and hips and thighs and back up. Sören started to kiss Geir's throat, kissing and licking Geir's neck as Geir moaned, smiling as Geir's breath hitched and he shivered. Sören kissed, licked, and nibbled Geir's shoulder, and kissed down to a nipple. His tongue ran around and around the aerole in circles, then lashed Geir's nipple to swollen, glistening hardness, before drawing the nipple into his mouth, suckling it hard, tugging it with his lips. Geir cried out and clutched Sören's head, and Sören's cock throbbed, wanting. Sören's tongue lashed the nipple some more and then his thumb and fingers rubbed it, pinched it, as he turned to the other to lick and suck, groaning as Geir moaned and swore.  
  
Sören went back and forth between Geirs nipples, grinding his hard cock on Geir's thigh. When Sören began to tug Geir's nipples with his teeth, Geir gave him a desperate, hungry look, and Sören laughed before kissing him, then nibbled on Geir's nipples some more, before sucking harder, rubbing faster, teasing.  
  
Sören kissed and licked the rest of Geir's torso, tracing the definition in Geir's stomach with his tongue, licking and nibbling on Geir's navel. He kissed and licked and massaged a thigh, and kissed his way down the knee, licking behind the knee, running his hands over the firm, shapely calf, chased by his tongue, watching Geir's reaction as his tongue licked down from the knee to the ankle, and back up. Geir arched, panting, and Sören laughed, delighted. "So lovely," Sören whispered. He knew Geir's body would be nice, but Geir was like a statue from the old masters, and Sören loved it. He felt honored, like he'd been given a gift.  
  
Sören's fingers and tongue brushed up the other leg from the ankle to the calf to the knee, and then he was sucking on and nibbling Geir's thigh. He took a few slow, loving, teasing licks at Geir's cock before working on his stomach again, rubbing it, kissing it. When his tongue was on a nipple again Geir gave a shuddery gasp and ground out, "Sören, please."  
  
"Please what?" Sören tugged on a nipple with his teeth.  
  
Geir groaned, and he pulled Sören by his curls into a kiss. He guided Sören's hand down to his cock, which was slick and dripping precum.  
  
But Sören wasn't done yet. "Roll over, I want to see your back, too."  
  
Geir rolled onto his stomach and Sören began to rub and knead Geir's back, fingers stroking the definition in his back, tongue tracing, and then as he rubbed he kissed down Geir's spine, cock throbbing as Geir moaned, shivering. When Sören's tongue ran down Geir's spine Geir cried out, and again as he felt Sören's cock rubbing in the crack of his ass. Sören kneaded the firm, taut globes of Geir's ass, and soon he was kissing and licking Geir's hips, kissing and nibbling Geir's ass cheeks, kissing and licking the backs of Geir's thighs. His tongue licked around the opening; Geir smelled clean, and Sören took a deep breath and plunged his tongue into Geir's channel.  
  
Geir let out a howl, and grabbed the sheets, white-knuckled, as Sören ate him like he was starving, tongue-fucking him furiously. When Geir began to rock against Sören's face, fucking himself on Sören's tongue, it was all Sören could do not to come right then, his cock throbbing urgently, wanting. Sören's tongue lashed and lashed and Geir got more vocal, broken cries, trembling. Then Sören slowed down, making "mmmmm" and "nnnnn" noises as his tongue lapped inside slowly, deliberately.  
  
Sören patted Geir's ass and rolled Geir onto his back again. Now Sören was licking Geir's cock up and down, slowly, slowly, eyes locked with Geir's. Geir's eyes were like blue flame, burning him alive. When Sören took just the head of Geir's cock into his mouth, kissing it, Geir bucked against him and cried out. "Sören. Dammit, Sören..."  
  
Sören took the head back out and lapped it, slapped it against his tongue, then rubbed his tongue on the slit. When the head was in his mouth again Sören sucked harder, swirling his tongue, and Geir made a guttural sound.  
  
Sören came up to kiss Geir with precum on his tongue, and they moaned together, moaning again as Sören's cock rubbed against Geir's. Then Geir shoved Sören onto his back, and gave him a hungry look before he leaned in and tugged on a nipple ring with his teeth. Sören cried out, cock jolting, and he cried out again when Geir tugged on the other one.  
  
Geir played with one nipple, pulling on the ring and pinching it, plucking it, as he nibbled and sucked the other hard, the rough treatment making them swollen and exquisitely sensitive. When Geir lapped, Sören shivered and grabbed at him, biting his lip, whimpering. Then Geir was rough again, tugging the nipple with his teeth then the nipple itself with his teeth, sucking hard, licking fast, nibbling and suckling some more. He teased and teased, Sören writhing desperately, crying out, panting, nails digging in.  
  
Geir's attention moved south, kissing all over Sören's stomach. He used his teeth again on a thigh, nibbling, licking, as long as Sören could stand it, then the other. Then his tongue was on Sören's cock, licking it all over from head to shaft and back up, tongue rubbing fast, hungry, before going slow, sensuous. When Sören's cock was in Geir's mouth Sören felt himself close to that edge again, grabbing the headboard, swearing in Icelandic.  
  
Geir stopped before Sören could come, and rolled him over. Geir paused, and Sören wondered why, and then Geir let out a "mmmmmmm" as he pulled the plug out of Sören's ass. "That is fucking _hot_ ," Geir husked, before he leaned down and began to kiss the back of Sören's neck and shoulder, one of Sören's most erogenous zones. He chuckled as Sören shivered and gasped, lingering there, continuing to kiss and lick and nibble. "So, you want to get fucked, I take it?"  
  
"Oh god, please." Sören tilted his head and their eyes met. "I mean, I'm versatile, but..."  
  
Geir nodded. "I can be vers with the right person in the right circumstances but I do top most of the time." He slapped Sören's ass and rubbed it. "I've been thinking about plowing you all night."  
  
"God, please." Sören gave a helpless little whimper. "Fucking take it."  
  
"But it's been awhile for you, yeah?" Geir began to trace the ink on Sören's back with his tongue.  
  
"I hooked up with someone for a weekend in November. Didn't work out," Sören added quickly, feeling the sting of having been ghosted by Aurelio Fiorella. "But before that, not since October 2013. Just, you know. The occasional toy." _Thinking of Anthony._ Sören hated that even now, he still wanted Anthony, part of him wishing it was Anthony here making love to him like this.  
  
But he liked Geir. He liked Geir a lot. There was so much promise, so much potential here. Sören moaned, shivering as Geir's tongue continued to outline the tattoos. "This is really nice work," Geir said softly, fingers walking down Sören's spine. "When did you get it all done?"  
  
"2005." Sören swallowed hard, remembering. "I, ah. I kind of thought about suicide when I was in my internship. I didn't attempt it, but I came close. I got the ink when I graduated, got my medical license, to celebrate that I survived. I designed it myself, based on a painting I made. And I told myself that if I can survive patients dying, the guilt, the shame, I can survive anything. Reborn, like a phoenix." Sören gave a bitter little laugh. "I survived losing Anthony, though it got very dark there for awhile."  
  
"I'm glad you're still here." Geir began to kiss down Sören's spine. "And yes, you did survive that. And now you're here, and about to set this bed on fire."  
  
With that, Geir's tongue dipped into Sören's opening. Sören screamed, and was turned into a quivering, whimpering wreck as Geir's tongue lashed inside him, keeping him dangling on that edge, pleasure and tension building and building to fever pitch. Sören lost himself in sensation, forgetting about the past, the only thing that mattered was Geir's tongue teasing him, rubbing that magic place inside him so sweetly, so wickedly. Sören howled, sobbed, and finally heard himself panting, "Geir... please, Geir... fuck me... fucking take it, fuck me, fuck me..."  
  
Sören heard the sound of a drawer opening, and then a lube bottle squirting. Sören gasped at the shock of cold liquid pouring into him, and again when he felt two of Geir's fingers push in and out of him. Geir's fingers rubbed inside him, as his other hand caressed Sören's back, the curve of his ass.  
  
For his first time with someone Sören would normally prefer to see their face, be able to look into their eyes, but he was too far gone in his need, feeling like he was in heat for it, and Geir seemed equally as lost. Geir grabbed Sören's hips and took him from behind just like that, reaching to grab Sören's hair as he began to fuck Sören hard, showing no mercy. As much as it had been a long time since Sören had been fucked regularly and he was still tight there, he _needed_ to get fucked like this, hot, primal, nasty, raw. "Oh god yes yes _yes_..." Sören gave a little whimper and rocked his hips back at Geir, their hips slapping together. "Oh god, fuck, fuck me..."  
  
"God, I fucking want you." Geir grabbed Sören's curls harder and slammed into him even faster. Geir's balls began to slap Sören's from behind, and Sören gave a little scream, trembling, so turned on by that he almost came right then.  
  
"Oh god. Geir. _Geir._ Fuck me. Fucking fuck me..."  
  
Geir growled. Sören realized how pent up Geir must be, if it had been at least since March 2013. They both needed this so much, and that thought made Sören even hotter, wanting Geir to unleash. "Sören." Geir groaned. "Fuck, Sören, you're so tight..."  
  
"Your cock is so fucking good." Geir was comparable in size to Anthony, who was not small. "Oh, shit..." Sören grabbed the pillows tighter, continuing to slam against Geir. "Fuck me. _Fuck me_..."  
  
The sound of their hips and balls slapping together got louder, Geir pounding into Sören even harder. The rhythm on Sören's prostate sent him right to that edge again, and Sören clung to it, not wanting Geir to stop, wanting to fuck and fuck and fuck, wanting to rut, in heat for it... but it was too good. Sören climaxed quickly, screaming "Geir! _Geir!_ " as his prostate throbbed and his cock pulsed, spurting, relief and bliss coursing through his entire body.  
  
"Oh, Sören!" Geir gave three last hard thrusts and then Sören felt Geir coming inside him, and the feel of being filled, claimed, after so long sent tears of happiness to Sören's eyes, letting out a shuddery sigh as his body continued to throb.  
  
Geir collapsed onto Sören's back and tilted Sören's face to his. They kissed, and Geir rubbed his nose in Sören's curls, buried his face in Sören's shoulder, giving little kisses, making Sören giggle.  
  
When Geir pulled out, Sören rolled onto his back and held out his arms. Geir curled up on Sören's chest and for a few minutes they just cuddled, recovering, then they resumed nuzzling and giving tender little kisses, and when the kisses began to deepen, tongues playing together, Sören felt his cock stirring again, hungry.  
  
"I want to look into those pretty brown eyes," Geir said, stroking Sören's face.  
  
"I want to look into your beautiful blue eyes." Sören pet Geir's hair. "Like blue diamonds."  
  
They kissed, and as their tongues swirled, teased, Geir began to push into Sören again. This time he was slower, more gentle at first, as they made eye contact between kisses, touching, nuzzling.  
  
Sören's breath hitched as Geir found a delicious rhythm inside him, and Geir murmured, "OK?"  
  
"Oh god, better than OK." Sören laughed.  
  
"I love it when you laugh." Geir rained kisses over Sören's face. "Your face lights up."  
  
"And you are like the stars," Sören husked.  
  
Geir kissed him deeply and began to thrust harder, faster. Geir took Sören's hand and squeezed, and Geir kissed Sören's brow.  
  
Soon Geir rose up and had one of Sören's legs propped on his shoulders as he pounded away. Sören loved watching him, the fierce, almost-angry look on his face as he rode and conquered, his lithe, muscular body working almost like he was dancing, fluid, sensual grace. Sören's hands reached up and caressed their way down Geir's body, once again needing to feel the definition in him, the _power_. "So beautiful," Sören breathed, in awe of him.  
  
Geir took Sören's hand again and kissed it, and put it to his heart. "This is more than sex, Sören. This is a dance. This is a song. We connected out there, at the club. You shared a piece of my soul."  
  
Tears came to Sören's eyes again. "Geir." He couldn't make words. And there was no need for words, their touch expressing something deeper than words.  
  
Geir fucked him harder, and Sören let out a wild cry, rocking back at Geir. "Yes yes yes yes fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme oh god..." Sören gasped for breath, pleasure climbing and climbing, about to send him off soaring. "I'm so fucking close..."  
  
"Come for me, Sören." Geir grabbed Sören's cock and began to stroke.  
  
Sören screamed and howled as his cock spurted over Geir's chest and stomach, and over his own torso. Geir came too, crying out, and the sight of him in ecstasy sent another shock wave through Sören, spurting on him again.  
  
Geir came down to kiss Sören, and Sören clung to him, kissing back deeply, passionately. Their foreheads touched as they panted, trying to catch their breath. When Geir began to lick the cream off of Sören's body, Sören's cock woke back to life, and then when Geir pulled Sören into his chest and Sören lapped up the seed that he'd spilled onto Geir's body, Geir was hard again too. Geir looked down at their cocks as he took them both into his hand, chuckling. "God."  
  
"We're insatiable." Sören was pleased. He nibbled on Geir's neck, making Geir moan and shiver.  
  
"You bring out the animal in me." Geir's thumb traced Sören's lips, and when Sören sucked the tip of Geir's thumb he made a little growl, which Sören's cock throbbed at.  
  
"It's a good thing I don't have to work tomorrow." Sören bit his lower lip before stealing a kiss.  
  
"Oh, you think we're going to fuck all night?" Geir gave him a teasing smile.  
  
"I know we're going to fuck all night." Sören laughed and stole another kiss.  
  
"Mmmmmmmm." And then Geir stroked Sören's cheek and said softly, "We're going to make love all night, Sören."  
  
With that he kissed Sören fiercely, and now Geir rolled onto his back, with Sören atop him, still inside Sören. "Ride me," Geir whispered.  
  
Geir didn't need to twist Sören's arm. Sören sat up and began to bounce on Geir's cock, quivering as Geir's hands explored him, worshiped him. "You take my breath away," Geir said, thumb brushing a nipple before hooking through the ring and tugging it, making Sören gasp.  
  
"Then I'll just have to breathe into you." Sören leaned down and kissed him.  
  
"Breathe life into me, Sören." Geir took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him back. "Let me feel that passion. That fire. I saw it in your eyes when we danced."  
  
Sören took Geir's hands in his, rose up, and bounced as hard as he could before Geir grabbed Sören's hips and took control of the rhythm, Sören bucking like he was on a wild bull.


	7. Coming Home

It was after one PM on a Sunday and Karen had seen hide nor hair of Geir, who was usually up before now. She knocked on his bedroom door. "Geir?"  
  
She heard something that sounded like a grumble from Sören, followed by Geir chuckling. "Yeah, come in," Geir said.  
  
Karen opened the door and saw Geir and Sören were in bed - presumably still in bed from last night. They were naked, though they were under the covers. Sören looked like he'd been woken up by the knock, and Geir looked like he was just waking up himself, yawning and stretching.  
  
"Shall I make tea?" Karen tried to contain her amusement and failed; they were cute, all rumpled and sleepy.  
  
"Yes, please." Geir tousled Sören's curls. "Hey. Time to wake up now."  
  
"Jæja, fuck you," Sören mumbled, not unkindly. Sören sat up and rubbed his face and gave Karen a look like a wet cat. "What time is it?"  
  
"One thirteen," Karen said.  
  
" _Jesus._ "  
  
"I guess we were up late." Geir had an evil grin on his face.  
  
"You think?" Sören pulled back the covers and winced as he got up, walking a little funny; it was obvious what they'd been doing and now Karen really couldn't help but laugh. Sören rubbed his face again and squinted at the side of the bed, and glanced around the room like he was missing something. "My bag... had clothes in it..." Sören scowled. "Oh shit, I forgot to bring my bag upstairs last night."  
  
"We were preoccupied," Geir said and gave a little clear of his throat.  
  
"I can get your bag," Karen said.  
  
"Oh Karen, _elskan_ , I hate to turn you into my servant..." Sören glared and folded his arms, a comical sight when he was completely nude.  
  
"I'm going down anyway," Karen said, then her mind went into the gutter, glancing at Sören's cock, and Sören caught it too and facepalmed, chuckling. "To make tea, you degenerate." She couldn't resist ribbing him.  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
Karen giggled, and took a pillow off the chair by Geir's door and threw it at Sören, who dodged but it hit him in the ass as he got out of the way. Sören winced again. "Ow. Jesus."  
  
"Poor baby." Geir patted Sören's ass and rubbed it.  
  
"Anyway, I'll be back up with your bag shortly," Karen said, laughing on her way out.  
  
Karen put on tea and then she found Sören's duffel bag by the couch - a duffel bag of the cartoon cat Pusheen, with teal handles. She smiled fondly as she picked it up; it pleased her that Sören was confident enough in his masculinity to have a soft toy like the tiger she'd seen at his flat, and here he clearly liked Pusheen. There was also an innocence to him, a sweetness that the bitterness and cruelty of the world and his own life had not been able to corrupt. Being around Sören made her world feel a little warmer, a little brighter, like basking in the glow of a hearth fire.  
  
She was happy that things seemed to be going well with Geir. She hadn't been worried, necessarily, but she knew Sören was probably skittish of dating another man again, and she very much wanted him to be able to heal his broken heart and move on. He deserved happiness. And though she wouldn't mind if Sören was seeing other people, she was happy that he and Geir were dating, which meant she'd see more of him - even if it was a night where he was coming over to see Geir rather than her specifically, it was still nice to see him and be around him. And sharing Sören with Geir made her feel closer to Geir. Something they could have in common and bond over.  
  
Sören was in the bathroom when Karen came upstairs with the bag, and finished just as Karen stepped into the bedroom. "Oh, perfect, _takk_ ," Sören said, unzipping the bag. Karen thought about going back downstairs even though the tea wouldn't be ready just yet, but she couldn't drag herself away from Sören just yet, ogling his naked body as he pulled the contents out of the duffel bag - pajamas which Sören clearly hadn't needed last night, the binder that contained prints of his art, a pair of faded jeans, a pair of wool socks, a pair of black boxer briefs, and a shirt that Sören immediately pulled on. Karen gigglesnorted when she saw the T-shirt - it was also Pusheen, laying on a couch, and said "Home is where my butt is."  
  
Geir raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So does that mean my cock is your new home?"  
  
Sören snickered. "If you want it to be." He sighed. "If you don't get sick of me."  
  
"Oh, Sören." Karen put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. "Like we could get sick of you."  
  
"Quite the contrary." Geir put his arms around Sören and kissed his cheek. "I'm hoping for a lot of repeats of last night."  
  
Sören gave a shy little smile as he pulled on his underwear, and winced again, sitting gingerly as he sat on the bed to put on his jeans.  
  
"So you brought your portfolio," Karen said.  
  
Sören nodded. "You didn't get to see much of it when you were at my place, so, ah..." He looked at Geir, who nodded. "Might as well give both of you the show?"  
  
Karen nodded. "Bring it downstairs, we'll have tea and take a look at your work."  
  
Sören followed Karen downstairs, and a few minutes later Geir was changed and came down in jeans and a dark blue sweater that made his eyes seem a brighter blue. Karen brought the tea service out to the living room, where Sören sat on the couch between them, and after a few sips of tea Sören put his cup down on the table and opened up the portfolio.  
  
He went through the folder slowly, giving Karen and Geir enough time to examine the prints in detail. Karen had seen some of them already, like the tribute to Freddie Mercury, and the Swiss Alps with faces in the rock cliffs, like ancient guardians watching. Geir made an appreciative noise at the painting called _Spirit of Fire_ , where a naked Sören was molting into a firebird, and Geir put an arm around Sören and kissed the top of his head at the self-portrait of Sören as Saint Sebastian, pierced by arrows, in agony.  
  
At last Karen got to see _who_ put Sören in such agony. She gasped with the shock of recognition. " _That's_ Anthony?" Karen turned her head to Sören. "Anthony Hewlett-Johnson."  
  
Sören's jaw dropped. "You know him?"  
  
The pit of Karen's stomach rose. "Yeah. He was in my diploma conversion group."  
  
She had wondered, when Sören had mentioned being engaged to an Anthony who was a barrister, if it was in fact that Anthony, even though the Anthony she knew had never advertised his sexual orientation. And now, here was the irrefutable evidence...  
  
...the naked truth. Karen had only ever seen Anthony fully clothed, and here was a painting of Anthony and Sören fully nude, making love in a walled garden, Sören on his back, Anthony inside him, laying atop him, their faces close, the two looking at each other like they were the only thing that existed in the world, in a dreamlike haze of pastels.  
  
Sören's eyes misted, a wistful look on his face, and Karen wondered if he would close the binder then, but he turned to the next page. There, on the rocks of a tidepool, Anthony lay on his back and Sören was inside him, one of Anthony's legs on his shoulders. They were holding hands with one hand, and Sören was stroking Anthony's face with the other as Anthony's hand rested on his heart. Once again they were looking at each other adoringly, worshipful, and the visibly expressed tenderness made Karen ache, even as she felt a flare of anger at what Anthony had done... and what she remembered of him.  
  
The next picture was the tidepools again and just Anthony by himself, wearing dark robes like his barrister's robes but longer, more flowing. He bore a gnarled walking stick in his right hand, and he looked out to sea with a pensive expression on his face, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  
  
"I called that one _The Fisher King_ ," Sören said.  
  
"Like the myth," Karen said, thinking of her degree in literature.  
  
"The what now?" Geir asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
"Arthurian legend, and before that, Celtic mythology. The last in a line of keeping the Holy Grail, wounded in the thigh," Karen said. "The land suffers and becomes a wasteland." Karen then scoffed, "The wound is sometimes, depending on the account, a punishment for wooing a woman not meant for him." Karen pursed her lips. "The knights go questing and come back with a cure for him, and the land is healed as well."  
  
"I honestly wasn't thinking of that when I made this," Sören said. "I'm more familiar with Norse mythology than, ah, all of that. Though, that's really interesting, 'cos like, Anthony broke his femur when he was twelve. He has a scar there from a plate that was in his leg." Sören pointed to that particular detail on the page previous.  
  
Karen's face was on fire, looking at the nude of Anthony again.  
  
Sören turned back to _The Fisher King_. "And it wasn't a woman." Sören gave a bitter laugh.  
  
The next painting was yet another nude of Sören and Anthony. This time they were in front of a fireplace, bathed in golden light, laying side by side and their hard cocks were pressed together. They were holding each other, and once again looking at each other with love and desire that made Karen's eyes well up, grieving for what Sören had lost. She could _feel_ , through the luminous artwork, the memory of having once loved deeply, fully. It was as if Anthony and Sören weren't just making love physically in the picture, but with their souls. She could feel what it had cost Sören to be without it, like a part of him was missing.  
  
And she was so, so angry.  
  
Sören put the portfolio down on the coffee table, leaving it open on _that_ picture - more of Anthony Hewlett-Johnson than Karen had ever wanted to see, more attractive than he had any right to be; he and Sören were beautiful together, an erotic contrast of opposites apart from similar coloring, height and build. Sören took his tea, had a few sips, and looked down. "So, ah. You know Anthony."  
  
"I do." Karen tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but it crept in enough that Sören raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"You don't like him," Sören said.  
  
"No, I don't." Karen frowned. "Anthony is a nasty piece of work."  
  
" _What?_ " Sören gave an incredulous laugh. "Did you face him in court, or..."  
  
"Not directly, though he consulted on a fraud case I was working on... back in October 2013, I want to say."  
  
"Oh god." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh god _that fucking case._ "  
  
"I ended up quitting law after that case."  
  
"Anthony ended up cheating after that case. I was working a hundred hours a week and he was extremely stressed out... not that I'm excusing it..." Sören's voice trailed off and he gave a shuddery little sigh. "So you never faced him in court but you still don't like him?"  
  
"I've heard things. But also, when he was in my diploma group he was just so... smug." Karen remembered that overconfident young man in his cashmere sweater and his hair gel with his posse of wannabes. Karen shook her head. "And he made fun of me."

"Oh no. Really? He hates bullies, that's so weird." Sören quickly added, "I'm not saying you're lying -"

Karen took a deep breath. "No, I know." She was about to reveal something she didn't tell most people. "My given name isn't Karen. It's my middle name."

"...Oh?" Sören looked confused.

"My given name is Bella. After my mother's grandmother, Isabella. I was named for my mother's grandmother, and my father's grandmother. Anyway... we were in the diploma group together in 2005, which is when... the first... _Twilight_ book came out. And he called me Bella Swan."

"Oh god." Sören tried not to laugh, and failed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh -"

"He claimed he never read Twilight, he just thought it was cute because he likes swans." Karen narrowed her eyes. "I still wasn't sure that he wasn't lying and actually making fun of me."

"He probably wasn't," Sören said. "He really does like swans, it's why he had the flat in Kingston. The river. The swans."

"OK." Karen still didn't like him. "Anyway, it's why I go by my middle name Karen now, and nobody but my parents call me Bella, not even my brother Ben calls me Bella anymore. Even if he wasn't making fun of me he just... came off like a prick." Karen exhaled sharply. "It's hard for me to reconcile the overconfident, cocky man I know with the tenderness in these pictures, or the fact that he was going to marry you."  
  
"He was very good to me," Sören said. "Until the end. That last day. I ended up saying some things to him when I came home and found him in bed with the guy he cheated with - our bed. I hit below the belt with what I said, I said some very not-nice things, some very _true_ things, I made him cry, because I was _angry_. And then I asked him 'what does he have that I don't' and he said 'a bigger cock, for one thing'."  
  
Now it was Geir's turn to stare open-mouthed. "Is he a size queen?"  
  
Sören howled, doubling over... and then he started to cry. "No," Sören said. "As soon as it was out of his mouth he apologized, but the damage was done. He was hurt, so he resorted to, you know, a schoolyard insult. It was more what was behind what he said, than what he specifically said. I know Anthony didn't cheat on me because he wanted someone with a bigger cock, we're the same size -"  
  
"Obviously," Karen said, trying not to look at the portrait on the table and failing. She didn't like that she was feeling vaguely aroused by it, either.  
  
Sören snickered and then he teared up again. "It hurt because it was more symptomatic of his fucking _pride_ , that for all of his 'honey we can fix this', he hadn't let me know _how_ much he was suffering when I had crazy hours until I, you know, _found him in bed with another dude_ , and instead of responding to my criticism like a mature adult he just decided to figuratively hit back. That's not how you fix things. So I left." Sören closed his eyes, tears spilling down his face. "I took my shit and I just left. Went to a hotel, even though I had the flu, that's why I came home early and ended up seeing what I saw, and I parked myself there for the next few days, sick as a fucking dog, when I should have been home, and the stress seemed to make it even worse..." He shuddered. "He kept calling and I said more not-nice things at him. When I got a flat in Holborn, you know I'm not that far from Lincoln's Fucking Inn and I kept hoping and praying I wouldn't run into him and for over a year I managed to avoid him and then finally I fucking did just fucking before my birthday, he was at a cafe near my flat, and it _hurt_. They say time heals all wounds but it really _doesn't_. I loved him and it hurts so fucking much, _still_..."  
  
Sören broke down crying.  
  
On the one hand, Karen thought Sören deserved better than the smug, overprivileged, arrogant twat from her diploma group. On the other hand, she knew Sören loved him very much and it hurt to see him this hurt. Karen and Geir looked at each other and together they pulled Sören into a tight hug, petting his curls, nuzzling him, rocking him in their arms.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Sören sobbed. "I know you guys are probably so sick of me talking about him."  
  
"You've kept it inside for so long," Karen said. "It's OK to let it out."  
  
Geir nodded. "We're here for you."  
  
"I hate that it's been over a fucking year and I'm still this broken up inside." Sören wept harder. "I know you think he was an arsehole, Karen, but he really wasn't, not until that last day. He was kind to me, he was supportive when I told him I'd been raped back in Iceland -"  
  
"Oh my god, Sören, is that why you left Iceland?" Karen gasped.  
  
Sören nodded. "Someone roofied me at a club."  
  
" _Jesus_ Sören." Geir held him tighter and kissed the top of his head. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Me too. Anthony was the first person I was with after that and he was so understanding. So tender and gentle with me. And not just then, either. When I lost a patient on the operating table he held me all night. He showed up when I pulled long shifts to bring me coffee and give me hugs. He wrote me love notes. He took me places, like he took me to Sweden, he took me to Switzerland, we used to go away to Brighton once in awhile. He bought me things." Sören pulled on his T-shirt. "He knows I like Pusheen, that's the screensaver on my laptop and the wallpaper on my phone, and he got me Pusheen stuff to cheer me up when I was starting to sink into a depression after the patient died. He also got me a stuffed animal when our relationship was new."  
  
"...The tiger?" Karen asked.  
  
Sören turned pink, and nodded, giving a small smile before he cried again. "His name is Tony." Sören gave a rueful laugh.  
  
"Oh god, did you call Anthony that?"  
  
"No. Only once in a great while to fuck with him. Nobody calls him Tony."  
  
"That's like our friend Nicholas," Geir said, and Karen nodded.  
  
Sören smiled again, and then he cried harder. "I still miss him. Even after what he did. God, I'm pathetic..."  
  
"No Sören. You're human." Geir rocked Sören harder.  
  
Sören cried and cried. Karen started to cry a little too, wishing there was something, anything she could do to ease his distress. When she looked up and saw Geir's eyes were too bright, Geir closed his eyes and silent tears spilled down his cheeks. That made Karen break down, weeping aloud, and then Sören cried even harder. "Oh no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." Sören's voice broke. "I'm so sorry. I'm ruining this entire day -"  
  
"You're not, Sören." Karen smoothed his curls, pet his face. She kissed his brow. "It's like I said... you've kept this inside too long. It needs to come out."  
  
"I wish it wasn't coming out like this." Sören sniffled. "I don't want to get you guys down..."  
  
"Sören, no." Geir rubbed Sören's head. "We understand. Really. We do."  
  
"Even if you understand, I hate crying like this." Sören sobbed some more. "I hate this so much..."  
  
Karen and Geir exchanged glances again. Even though Sören needed to let it out, it was clear he _wanted_ to get out of this dark place he was in for a little while, he needed some relief from the pain. There was the option of taking him to bed, but Karen got the sense Sören's body was well-used and needed some rest before attempting sex again. They could play a board game, but that probably involved some brainpower and Karen knew Sören used his mind all week at work, being a surgeon, and was probably mentally exhausted from the emotional catharsis.  
  
Nicholas had been invoked as another person who always went by his full name, and now Karen thought of their breakfast yesterday, Nicholas once again encouraging them to bring Sören over to meet him. She knew that Nicholas would be free tonight, and wouldn't mind them coming over spontaneously, which Karen and Geir did from time to time, and vice versa; they had a key to Nicholas's flat, and he had a key to theirs.  
  
"Hey Sören," Karen said, gently shaking him. "We're going to get you out of the flat for a bit. Taking a little walk, get some air."  
  
"Oh, where are we going?"  
  
"We're going to introduce you to our friend Nicholas."  
  
"Oh. Oh god." Sören gave a nervous laugh. "I. Ah. I'm a mess."  
  
"If you really don't want to go it's all right, but he's expressed interest in meeting you and cooking for all of us."  
  
"He's a really excellent cook," Geir supplied.  
  
"He is," Karen said, nodding. "And he's a very, very nice man. With a very nice cat."  
  
"I like cats," Sören said.  
  
"All right then. What do you say you come with us to Nicholas's flat and let him feed you and you can meet his kitty?"  
  
"O-OK." Sören sniffled. "I better pull myself together."  
  
Sören got up to visit the bathroom to wash his face, and when he came out his eyes were still red-rimmed from having cried, there was still a haunted look in his eyes, but he wasn't in hysterics. And as the three of them took the short walk to Nicholas's flat in the snow, Sören seemed to calm down further, looking around at the neighborhood, watching the snow fall.  
  
"It's pretty out here," Sören said. He chuckled. "Nicer than Holborn."  
  
"A lot nicer," Karen said, nodding, and she felt a wistful pang, wishing that Sören could live in this neighborhood too. He wouldn't be _so_ much farther from work, either...  
  
There was a lift to get up to the top of Nicholas's brick building, and Sören's breath hitched as he got in the lift with them. He swallowed hard as the doors closed.  
  
"Are you all right?" Karen asked.  
  
"Claustrophobia."  
  
Karen and Geir each put an arm around Sören, holding him safe. Sören closed his eyes and he was shaking a little when the lift let them off. Karen felt a twinge of empathy, hurting for him, wondering why he was so claustrophobic. Then all fear promptly vanished when he saw the sign on the door - now he was puzzled, his brow furrowed, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"What the hell language is that, Latin?"  
  
"He's a Classics professor at UCL," Karen said.  
  
"So... what does that sign say, do you know?"  
  
The sign said _MEA NAVIS VOLITANS ANGUILLIS ABUNDAT_. Karen smiled and put a hand on Sören's shoulder and said, "My hovercraft is full of eels."  
  
Sören spluttered, and laughed so hard he doubled over, wheezing. His cheeks were pink and his eyes lit up - his entire face was lit up now, and seemed to light up the entire lobby, making Karen and Geir smile too. "I like him already," Sören said. Before Karen could knock, Nicholas opened the door, hearing Sören's laughter in the hallway, and there was all six-foot five of him, silver-haired and bearded, clad all in his usual black.  
  
"Well, hello there," Nicholas said, smiling at Karen, and then he turned and got his first look at Sören. His dark eyes widened a little and his mouth opened, then he took a deep breath, closed his mouth, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, shining, smile broadening. "You must be Sören."  
  
Sören put his hand out. "I love you... ah... your sign." He gave a nervous little giggle.  
  
"Why, thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you." Nicholas took Sören's hand and shook firmly. Their hands lingered for a moment, and then they slowly pulled back, fingertips brushing, Nicholas looking Sören up and down, and Sören looking at Nicholas with a slow blink, slightly open-mouthed, the pink in his cheeks a bit deeper.  
  
"Come in," Nicholas said, gesturing for them to follow him inside.  
  
"Are you sure we're not intruding?" Sören folded his arms. "I don't want to be a bother -"  
  
"They're family and that means so are you. Come along. Welcome home."


	8. Home Is Where My Butt Is

_Oh shit, he's hot._  
  
Sören was not expecting Karen and Geir's friend Nicholas to be so attractive, a silver fox if there ever was one. Impressively tall, lean but powerfully built, seeming to command the whole room as he walked. And that _voice_. Sören had a weakness for deep voices with cultured British accents - Patrick Stewart's voice, Anthony's... now Nicholas's. Sören felt a flutter in his stomach, face on fire as he paused to admire the milk glass lamp in the hallway. "I like the glass," he said.  
  
"Thank you," Nicholas said. "It's an antique."  
  
Sören paused again by the staircase in the hallway, looking up at Rossetti's _Joan of Arc_ on the half-landing. "Ah." Sören felt a big grin break out on his face again.  
  
"Hm?" Nicholas paused.  
  
"You're a fan of Rossetti, I take it."  
  
"He's my favorite painter."  
  
Sören nodded, pleased - if that both resonated with them it made Nicholas a kindred spirit of sorts. "He's mine next to Van Gogh. Rossetti was a major influence on my work."  
  
"Well then, I _must_ see your art sometime."  
  
"Sometime." Sören would have gone back to Karen and Geir's flat for his portfolio, but he was emotionally exhausted from having shown the paintings of Anthony, never mind Nicholas seeing them, nor did he think _here's nudes of me and my ex_ was an appropriate icebreaker.  
  
And already, he was excited there would be a next time, an opportunity to see him again.  
  
Sören walked into an open plan living, dining and kitchen area. The floorboards were a dark brownish-grey, contrasting with the grey and cream armchairs and couches. The room was brightened up with throws and cushions and rugs in sea green and blues, and Sören beamed again at the sight of a woodstove lit with a cozy fire, a grandfather clock ticking beside it. The area was full of ferns and potted palms and books. Shelves of books everywhere.  
  
"My god, you have a library," Sören said, his voice hushed, impressed by the sheer volume of books.  
  
"I am a voracious reader." Nicholas nodded.  
  
It came out before he could stop himself. "Hi A Voracious Reader. I'm Sören."  
  
Nicholas _glared_ \- Sören found that look devastatingly sexy. Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, and then Nicholas laughed, facepalming. "Dear _god_ , that's terrible." Nicholas shook his head and folded his arms.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Nicholas gave him a look again, which made Sören's stomach flip-flop, and then Nicholas continued walking with a chuckle. "But it's how I met Karen." Karen nodded and grinned, squeezing Nicholas's shoulder. "A cafe called The Raven's Roost, nearby, which has a great number of books. You simply _must_ join us for breakfast sometime if you have a Saturday morning free. You can also feel free to borrow any of my books that strike your fancy."  
  
"Thank you, that's... very generous of you, I appreciate that." Sören felt a funny little tingle - intelligence was a very attractive quality to him, and knowing Nicholas liked to read just added to the appeal. And the kindness... Sören's face was on fire again. This was dangerous territory. Sören looked around the living room, and Nicholas watched Sören take it all in; Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "Can I sit down?"  
  
"You _may_ sit down, yes." Nicholas began to walk into the kitchen. "May I get you anything? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?"  
  
"Hot chocolate sounds lovely," Karen said, and Geir nodded agreement. So did Sören.  
  
Sören took off his leather jacket - it was very warm in the flat with the woodstove going, and blushing madly wasn't helping either. As Nicholas wandered back into the living room while the kettle boiled, Sören heard a "Prrrp?"  
  
A cat was coming right over to him, mostly black with white socks and a white ruff, orange eyes, a notched left ear, a scar on the nose. "Oh, hello!" Sören held out his hand for the cat to sniff, and giggled when the cat gave him a headbutt, purring, tail high in the air.  
  
"That is Tobias," Nicholas said.  
  
"What a good boy." Then Tobias jumped onto his lap and Sören's troubles melted away as he stroked and skritched the cat, who purred louder. Sören found himself lapsing into his native language as he lavished love on the adorable cat. " _Ert þú ekki dýrmætt barn. Þvílíkt sætt litla elskan. Ó, hvað góður, snaggi litli köttur. Nú er kominn tími til að þú fáir öll nuddin og rispurnar og ástina, já?_ "  
  
Nicholas went from a small smile to a full-fledged grin, showing his teeth. Though he had nice teeth, all the moreso at his age which Sören guessed was sixties, he did look rather goofy grinning like that, and yet somehow that made him even more endearing to Sören. Nicholas re-composed himself with a little Mona Lisa smile. "Don't let his good behavior fool you. He's a rapscallion."  
  
"He's a... what." Sören blinked and giggled; he'd never heard that word before.  
  
"A mischief maker," Nicholas said, sounding vaguely annoyed that Sören didn't know what a rapscallion was.  
  
"Sorry, English isn't my first language."  
  
"It's OK," Karen said, putting a hand on his arm. "Your average twenty-five year old doesn't know what a rapscallion is, either."  
  
"Hey," Geir said. "I knew what a rapscallion was, and English isn't even my first language."  
  
"You also appreciate things the youth these days does not," Nicholas said, "like classical music. In any case, Sören, it's fine. And the sound of your native language is delightful, I must say." Their eyes met.  
  
Sören's face flushed again. " _Takk._ " He tried not to stare too long at those warm, shining dark eyes.  
  
"And Tobias certainly seems to like it." Nicholas got up and walked to the kitchen, looking back at Tobias on Sören's lap, continuing to get pettings.  
  
"I certainly like him." Tobias stood on his hind legs, front paws on Sören's shoulder, and he began to headbutt Sören's face over and over again, making Sören squeak with happiness. He squeaked again when their noses touched. " _Hví ljúfur, yndislegi litli Toby. Já, þú ert dýrmætt barn Toby, þvílík ást._ "  
  
"Er," Nicholas called from the kitchen, pouring hot water into mugs. "His name is Tobias." He narrowed his eyes, looking somewhat disgruntled.  
  
And sexy. Sören felt something puckish stir in him as he skritched Tobias's chin. " _Þetta er lítill barnakettlingur. Já, þetta er góður, elsku Toby._ "  
  
Nicholas brought the hot chocolate into the living room and Tobias walked from Sören's lap across the coffee table to Nicholas's lap. Nicholas pulled the cat into his arms, holding him on his chest like the cat was a baby. Tobias purred louder, kneading Nicholas's arm. Sören felt like he was going to die from the cuteness of it.  
  
"How long have you had Toby?" Sören asked.  
  
"I have had _Tobias_ for eleven years," Nicholas said, giving him that look again. Sören gave him an innocent face in return. "He was a rescue. I found him wandering outside in the neighborhood in the dead of winter when he was just a kitten. So of course I had to take him in."  
  
The mental image of Nicholas taking in an orphaned baby kitten went right to Sören's heart... and wasn't doing a good job of making Sören not find him attractive. Sören swallowed hard before he took a sip of hot chocolate.  
  
"Do you have any cats, Sören?" Nicholas asked, looking curious.  
  
Sören shook his head with a wistful sigh. "I work sixty, seventy hours a week. I'd feel guilty leaving a cat alone by himself all the time. Which is too bad, because I really love cats and would love to have a cat of my own."  
  
"I can tell you're a cat person," Nicholas said with a slow nod. "Tobias has taken quite a shine to you." Their eyes met again, and Nicholas gave him that little smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. Sören's stomach fluttered again. "And you even have..." Nicholas's eyes looked down, then up. "Is that a cat on your shirt?"  
  
"It's Pusheen," Sören said. He pulled on the tail of his shirt to smooth out the graphic on the front, to make it easier to see.  
  
Nicholas read the caption aloud. "Home... is where... my butt... is." Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
Geir almost spat his cocoa hearing Nicholas speak those words aloud in his deep, RP-accented voice, and Geir and Karen howled, leaning on each other, doubling over in hysterics as Nicholas gave them a filthy look. Nicholas then raised an eyebrow at Sören. "Where in the _world_ did you get a shirt like that. I'm afraid to ask."  
  
"Pusheen is big on the Internet," Sören said, "and my ex, ah, Anthony, got it for me and some other Pusheen stuff when I was depressed."  
  
"Ah." Nicholas seemed to sense he had just entered awkward territory, but then he glanced at Geir and Karen with concern, and Sören braced himself. "So this isn't your first set of relationships." There was an edge to his voice, almost an accusation.  
  
"No." Sören decided to just be honest, even though he and Nicholas had just met. "I don't know if Geir or Karen told you this, but Anthony and I were engaged to be married and he cheated, so I left. And it's why I do open relationships now."  
  
"I see." Nicholas frowned. "My apologies."  
  
"If you're worried about me hurting Geir or Karen, please don't be. I can't promise I won't make mistakes, I'm only human, but my intentions are pure. Even if my thoughts aren't." Sören glanced at them and waggled his eyebrows, making Geir leer back as Karen giggled and gave him a playful swat, before grabbing his nose.  
  
"All right." Nicholas nodded. He glanced over at the grandfather clock, his cheeks pink. "I should start working on dinner... I was going to roast a chicken this evening. There will be plenty for everyone."  
  
"Would you like a hand?" Karen asked.  
  
"Yes, I wouldn't mind a little assistance."  
  
"Can I do anything to help?" Sören wanted to be polite.  
  
"May I," Nicholas corrected.  
  
Karen snorted. "Dad, be nice. _As you know_ , English is his second language."  
  
"That needn't be an excuse. As you know my parents spoke French as their first language and they still taught me the use of 'may'," Nicholas huffed.  
  
Sören was amused rather than offended - Geir and Karen were laughing too, which returned that testy look to Nicholas's face.  
  
"So you're a professor?" Sören asked, not able to help himself. "Are you like this with your students?"  
  
"I have a bit of a reputation." Nicholas looked almost proud of himself. "They started calling me Tyrannus - Latin for _tyrant_ \- or Lord Tyrannus when they want to be particularly snarky. New students are warned about me."  
  
Sören giggled. "Oh god, that's like my ex being the Shark, almost." He shook his head and sipped his hot cocoa. "Almost like you two are brothers or something."  
  
Karen found this hilarious, and Nicholas gave her a look. Then Sören asked, "So, is there anything I can do to be of assistance in the kitchen?"  
  
"I appreciate the offer but I think Karen and I shall manage. You and Geir feel free to make yourselves at home, put on the television, or you can peruse my library..." Nicholas handed Tobias over to Sören. "Here."  
  
Sören picked up Tobias and held him close the way Nicholas had, and after a minute Tobias got on his hind legs again with his front paws on Sören's shoulder and started headbutting his face again. Over in the kitchen area, Nicholas glanced over, smiling fondly, and Sören smiled back. Then Sören grimaced as Tobias climbed onto his shoulder, digging his claws in, and draped himself on the shoulder. Sören continued to pet Tobias, and Geir watched, laughing.  
  
After awhile Tobias walked across Sören's shoulders and lay behind Sören's neck, with his head and front paws on one shoulder and his rump and back paws on the other, kneading, claws digging in again. "Does he do this to you?" Sören called over to the kitchen.  
  
"Oh yes," Nicholas said. "Especially when I'm trying to grade papers. It's why I had started going to The Raven's Roost on Saturday mornings to work on papers, which is how Karen found me."  
  
The mental image of Tobias perching on Nicholas's shoulders the same way made Sören giggle. The movement of Sören's laughter made Tobias adjust himself again, climbing down, but lingering to put his butt right in Sören's face. It became apparent Tobias had visited the litterbox recently, the smell assaulting Sören's nose.  
  
"Oh god, cat," Sören said, trying to lean back and move his face out of the way. "You've got a dirty boom-boom."  
  
Karen and Geir were both in hysterics again, while Nicholas stood there in the kitchen, bottle of olive oil in hand, thick brows drawn, eyes narrowed, mouth a flat line of disapproval. Sören loved it.  
  
Tobias then farted in Sören's face. "AUUUUUGHHH," Sören cried, wincing. Tobias settled onto Sören's lap, purring very loudly, smiling, kneading. "Oh god, Toby farted." Tobias looked pleased with himself.  
  
" _Tobias_ has sometimes woken me up doing that," Nicholas said. He put the olive oil down on the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, so much for first impressions..."  
  
"It's all right." Sören laughed and skritched the back of Tobias's neck, which the cat enjoyed, leaning into his touch. "You can't help having a stinky boom-boom," Sören said to the cat in a singsong voice.  
  
Nicholas glared again. "That is... that is not a word."  
  
"It is now."  
  
  
_  
  
  
While Nicholas and Karen worked on making dinner, Geir put on a DVD of _Swan Lake_ to show Sören - who had never actually seen a ballet performance in his life - what it was like. "I've played flute for this," Geir explained. Geir and Sören cuddled together on the couch as they watched, and Sören found himself getting teared up by the beauty of it, the way the dance was so _expressive_.  
  
Every now and again Nicholas glanced over at Sören, who felt himself being looked at, and Sören would smile at him, which made Nicholas smile in return, turning a little pink as he resumed peeling and chopping vegetables. Eventually, Sören found himself watching Nicholas as much as he was watching the program, though that was at least in part to distract himself from the aching loveliness of the ballet, which was giving him too many feelings and he didn't want to be a wet blanket at the first "family dinner".  
  
Eventually Nicholas and Karen came into the living room while dinner cooked, and Sören had to refocus on the program, since Nicholas's chair was behind him. As Sören watched more intently, visions began to dance in his mind's eye, and he felt the urge to paint again, to create. He heard himself musing aloud, "I'd like to paint you playing the flute," thinking of Geir. "You're beautiful."  
  
"I'd be honored," Geir said. "You do amazing work."  
  
"Your flute playing must be amazing," Sören said.  
  
"I'll have to give you a private performance sometime."  
  
Then Geir and Sören immediately started snickering - their minds both went into the gutter. Karen overheard them and facepalmed, giggling; Nicholas turned beetroot. Geir threw fuel on the fire. "Clothes on or off?"  
  
"Either." Sören grinned.  
  
"I must say, it's a pity Anthony turned out to be... well, like that, because, forgive me for saying it, but he's quite handsome." Geir's cheeks were slightly pink.  
  
Sören nodded and sighed. Anthony had always been easy on the eyes, even though at the end - when Sören was working a hundred hours a week and his temper was increasingly short - Sören got annoyed with things like him getting completely waxed, and wearing contacts instead of glasses, when Anthony knew Sören wouldn't judge him for being hairy and Sören loved the sight of him in glasses, cute in a nerdy way. But even now, the thought of Anthony's smile - the genuine smile, not the courtroom smile - made Sören feel like a lovesick teenager, and he hated that he was still hung up like this after all this time.  
  
Before Sören could get too emotional, Tobias hopped back up on the couch with a "Prrrp?" and settled into Sören's arms.  
  
"Hi, Toby," Sören said, skritching him.  
  
"Would you like to give _Tobias_ a treat?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Oh... I'd love to!"  
  
Nicholas got up, and came back with a bag of cat treats. He poured a few into Sören's hand, and Sören held out his hand to Tobias, who began eating out of Sören's hand. Nicholas smiled - their eyes met again - before he sat back down.  
  
Then Nicholas said, "If you think this performance is impressive, Sören, you should see it live someday."  
  
"Oh, I'd love to go to the ballet, if I ever have time." Sören nodded.  
  
Nicholas and Karen looked at each other, and then Karen cleared her throat. "Sören, not long after our first date, I bought an extra ticket to a Christmas Eve performance of _The Nutcracker._ Geir's going to be playing flute in the orchestra."  
  
"Oh my god." Sören squeaked and clapped, like an excited big kid. "That's brilliant, thank you."  
  
"I'll be accompanying both of you," Nicholas said.  
  
That made it even better; Sören beamed at him and Nicholas smiled back.  
  
"You... you do have Christmas Eve off, yes?" Karen asked. "I know you gave me your schedule, but I wanted to make sure -"  
  
Sören nodded. "The evening. I have to work during the day."  
  
"The performance is in the evening, so that works out."  
  
"Do you work on Christmas Day?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Unfortunately, yes, I work three PM to eleven PM that day. I have all of Boxing Day off, though." Sören gave a small, apologetic smile.  
  
"Well... what time are you off on Christmas Eve?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Three PM." Sören nodded. "I go in at six AM." He made a face; he hated mornings. "That gives enough time to do dinner before the performance, maybe?"  
  
"I was thinking that," Nicholas said. "I'd like to have you kids over for Christmas dinner, and if you don't mind coming from work..."  
  
"I don't. Though." Sören chuckled. "I'm not a kid. I turned thirty in November."  
  
"That's still a kid to me." Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "I'm sixty-six. Or I will be, on the twenty-eighth."  
  
"Ah, Capricorn? I'm a Sagittarius."  
  
Nicholas snorted, but then he nodded. "I don't believe in astrology -"  
  
"Neither do I, but it's fun to look at my horoscope for shits and giggles. My cousin Ari, he got me into doing that, he takes it seriously." Sören gave a little eyeroll. "He says I'm such a Sagittarius it hurts." He missed Ari.  
  
Sören gave Karen a little squeeze, feeling giddy about the upcoming ballet, and touched and grateful that she thought of him and got an extra ticket. "Thank you, again, so much for the ticket to _The Nutcracker._ "  
  
Karen kissed his cheek. "You're welcome."  
  
Then Sören felt as nervous as he was excited. "Oh god... what do I even wear to something like that."  
  
"Welllllllll," Karen said, "There's no dress code for the Royal Opera House. I wouldn't mind seeing you in your poet's shirt and those leather trousers..."  
  
Nicholas's eyebrows shot up. "There may not be a dress code but one should certainly wear one's best to attend a performance. I've gone to the Royal Opera House and seen youngsters wearing jeans. _Jeans._ "  
  
Sören tried not to laugh at Nicholas's comical outrage; Geir laughed outright. Then Geir said, "That sort of elitist attitude is maybe why people don't get into opera or classical or ballet anymore."  
  
"It isn't elitist," Nicholas insisted, indignant, squaring his shoulders.  
  
Geir shrugged. "I'd rather people go in jeans than avoid going because they don't want to get dressed up."  
  
"I'd rather people show some respect for the performers, respect for the artistry." Nicholas sniffed. "I shall be going in my best suit."  
  
"Oh." Sören blinked - it was clear if they were attending with Nicholas, he wasn't going to get away with leather pants, or not without causing a scene. "I really hate wearing suits." He thought bitterly of Trisha and Vincente's attempt to give him a makeover prior to his first art show, and rubbed his curls defensively.  
  
"But, you'd look sharp in a suit," Nicholas said, and their eyes met.  
  
 _Well if you put it like that..._ Sören still had that suit. He also had the tuxedo from the wedding that didn't happen, still in a bag, untouched, but he didn't want to handle that and all of the feelings associated with it. It was amazing that he'd taken it with him at all, instead of leaving it behind with other things, like the Rolex.  
  
Sören's face was on fire again. _You hate wearing suits and now you'll wear one because this guy says you'd look sharp? Really?_ Sören swallowed hard. This was definitely dangerous territory. Yet he hadn't seen any rings on Nicholas's fingers, and he seemed to live alone... _That doesn't mean he's gay. Or interested. Or that it's a good idea to date your partners' dad._  
  
The timer went off. "Oh, dinner's ready." Nicholas got up. Sören tried not to watch the surprisingly-for-his-age firm, taut ass in black trousers as Nicholas made his way into the kitchen.  
  
Nicholas got out plates and began to serve the food. "Do you want to eat _al fresco_ , up on the terrace? I know it's a bit cold, but the sun will be setting..."  
  
"Oh, I'd like that," Karen said, and Geir nodded. Sören nodded too.  
  
"A little cold doesn't bother me," Sören said.  
  
"I would imagine not. You must tell me about Iceland sometime," Nicholas said. "I've never met any Icelanders, though I've seen many photographs of your country, it seems beautiful."  
  
"It is a beautiful country," Sören said, nodding. "England is home now, but a part of me will always miss Iceland."  
  
Nicholas took the food out, and then gestured for them to follow; Sören walked gingerly up stairs, through a frosted glass door to a delightful rooftop garden that made him gasp at the first sight. Sören was sure it was beautiful in the summer when everything was in bloom, but the snow and frost and ice crystals on the pots and tiling and railing had its own charm, enchanted in the old-gold wash of approaching sunset. There were fairy lights wound around the black railing of the terrace, which Nicholas turned on to provide ambiance, and they sat at a mosaic table, with wrought iron chairs and benches. Rachmaninoff played on a portable stereo as they ate. It was all very cozy - it felt like _home_ to Sören. The wine and the good food and the atmosphere helped to further relax him, get his mind away from the pain of remembering Anthony earlier.  
  
And the view of the sunset was breathtaking up here, where the sky went on and on. Sören kept looking at the pink and orange fire in the sky, enough that from time to time he set his utensils down and just stared, aching at the beauty of the colors, the wonder of the world, the ephemerality of it - gone too soon, never to be another one just exactly like it.  
  
"Is the food all right?" Nicholas asked, sounding concerned.  
  
"Oh! It's delicious," Sören said, and took a bite of chicken to prove his point. It was moist, the skin was crispy and wonderfully flavored with rosemary and garlic. There was also a nice side of roasted herbed new potatoes, squash and carrots. "I just get caught up looking at sunsets."  
  
"It's one of the things that drew me to this flat," Nicholas said, nodding. "The view here is magnificent."  
  
"It really is. I'm a bit envious." Sören laughed and sipped his wine.  
  
"Well, any time you come over, feel free to come up here," Nicholas said.  
  
Sören smiled, feeling an ache at the warmth. He had been so long without real friends, and now... "Thank you. You've been so kind, Nick." He meant to call him Nicholas, remembering the mention that he always went by his full name, but it just came out in the surge of emotion.  
  
Karen started giggling. "Neek," she said under her breath, imitating Sören's accent. Geir snickered too, even though he couldn't quite talk, having a Norwegian accent. Sören had a sense of humor about it, and chuckled along with them.  
  
Nicholas gave him that look again. Then his eyes softened. "You may call me Dad," Nicholas said, "like Karen and Geir do."  
  
"OK then. I appreciate the kindness, ah, Daddy."  
  
 _That_ just slipped out - Sören's face was on fire now, knowing he and other queer men used the term "daddy" for an attractive older man. Sören bit his lower lip and quickly looked away, hoping that the attraction wasn't too obvious.  
  
Nicholas chuckled, his cheeks pink. "You're welcome, Sören."  
  
When the meal was over and sunset had faded to blue twilight, Sören spent a few minutes looking at the dusk, before they brought their plates and glasses downstairs. "Dinner was wonderful," Sören said sincerely.  
  
"I'm glad you liked it." Nicholas took a small bow.  
  
"I insist on doing dishes." Sören put his hands on his hips. "I won't take no for an answer."  
  
"All right."  
  
When the dishwasher was loaded, Nicholas put on tea again, and took out different teacups this time, since the mugs from earlier were being washed. Sören raised an eyebrow. "Is that Wedgwood?"  
  
"You recognize it?"  
  
"My ex's mother collected Wedgwood," Sören said, and felt a sharp pang. He missed Elaine, too, and something told him Elaine and Nicholas would get along.  
  
"I usually reserve this for special occasions," Nicholas said, "but I believe this is a special occasion."  
  
Sören smiled. When they walked out to the living room with the tea, Sören asked, "Do you have any other Wedgwood?"  
  
"I don't," Nicholas said. "But this is rather old. I found it antiquing, I paid a good sum for it."  
  
Sören remembered the milk glass lamp in the hallway. "Can I look at your other antiques? I like older things." _Like you._ Sören tried not to smirk.  
  
"Oh..." Nicholas blinked, and then he nodded. "Yes, you _may_ , I'll take you on a bit of a tour once we finish tea."  
  
And so Sören was given the tour of Nicholas's flat, where Nicholas pointed out pieces of furniture, most notably in his bedroom, which was all done in the William-and-Mary style. Here and there on shelves he had pieces of Waterford glass, antique picture frames hanging in the hallway and his bedrooms, more antique milk glass lamps, even an antique bell. "In case I can't find Tobias," Nicholas said. "He has a habit of hiding at loud noises like the vacuum cleaner. And he's come to associate the bell with treats."  
  
Nicholas opened the wardrobe in his bedroom and Sören saw him reach in the pocket of a black suit. Nicholas produced a pocket watch, and then when he opened it, he frowned. Sören saw it was frozen on the wrong time. Nicholas wound the watch, and it still wouldn't start ticking again. "Drat."  
  
"Oh no," Karen said. "Is it broken?"  
  
"It appears so. I shall have to take it in to a watchmaker."  
  
They went downstairs, and Nicholas took out his cell phone, looking on the Internet for watchmakers in London. Then he dialed one. "Not that I expect anyone to be open this hour on a Sunday evening, but at least I can leave a voice mail," Nicholas said as the phone rang and he waited.  
  
There was a recorded message, but Nicholas's brow furrowed and he hung up without leaving a voice mail. "Shop is closed for the holidays. I gather that would likely be the same for all of them. I guess I'll have to go without my pocket watch for the performance..."  
  
"It's OK, Dad," Geir said. "You know I'm not offended."  
  
"It's the principle of the matter," Nicholas said. "My outfit shall feel incomplete without it."  
  
Sören fought off the urge to snicker at what a fuss Nicholas was making over such a minor detail, but he also knew that if the watch was an antique it was probably important to him personally. "I'm sorry," Sören said, expressing empathy.  
  
Nicholas nodded. "I shall manage, I suppose."  
  
Tobias rubbed against Nicholas's legs. "Prrr-rowwrrr?"  
  
"Yes." Nicholas sat down and Tobias climbed on him. Then Tobias turned around and put his butt in Nicholas's face. Nicholas cringed and said, "You're so helpful. Truly."  
  
Sören giggled. "He wants to give you something to really cry about." Sören reached over and skritched the cat. "Don't you, Toby? Are you making him smell your dirty boom-boom?"  
  
Nicholas made a noise and pinched the bridge of his nose. Karen and Geir laughed and Sören grinned.  
  
"I have one last thing I didn't show you," Nicholas said.  
  
"What, Toby's boom-boom? I already saw that."  
  
Nicholas gave Sören a look. Sören smiled and Nicholas rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked and his eyes crinkled at the corners, shining. Nicholas handed Tobias over to Sören and got up. Sören watched as he went over to a wooden trunk by a bookshelf - the trunk was itself an antique - and Nicholas produced a chess set. The chessboard was handsome, heavy wood, carved with scrollwork and leaves, and the tiles were light brown and dark brown wood. The chess pieces were all carved wood, light brown and dark brown. Nicholas handed over a king and Sören ran his finger over it, admiring the texture as well as the handiwork that had gone into such a piece - the king looked remarkably like Nicholas, as well, bearded, high cheekbones and arched aristocrat nose, wearing a cape, bearing a longsword.  
  
Each piece was beautifully detailed. The queen had curled hair in a braided chignon, full lips, wore a gown and several strands of pearls, bearing a chalice. The rook had carved bricks, and flowering vines. The knight was in full armor astride a magnificent horse with little flowers in its mane, a shield in one hand, a raised sword in the other. The bishop had on heavy robes and a tall hat, carrying a cross adorned with flower garlands. The pawns were all footsoldiers in armor, carrying spears and shields.  
  
"That's gorgeous woodwork," Sören said. It made him wish he knew how to sculpt wood.  
  
Nicholas nodded. "It's a treasure."  
  
Sören cocked his head to one side. "Do you play?" He hadn't played chess since he lived in Iceland, and he missed it.  
  
"I do."  
  
"We will have to play one of these days."  
  
"Ah. I had heard that chess was popular in Iceland, but I didn't want to get my hopes up..." Nicholas made a vague hand gesture. "Kids these days don't really play chess anymore."  
  
"Oh no, we still play chess in Iceland," Sören said. "With winters like ours we need things to do, preferably things that can be done while drinking." His aunt Katrín, the alcoholic, had taught him to play chess when he was six, a few months after his mamma died, and they played at least a couple times a month while Sören was growing up. It was one of the few occasions when she behaved decently towards him, and also made the abuse from her that much more painful - it would have been easier if she had been consistently horrible all the time, as opposed to nice sometimes and nasty most of the time.  
  
"Then we definitely shall play," Nicholas said.  
  
"Good. I look forward to it."  
  
Sören went out on a bit of a limb then, as he glanced around the flat some more. "Would you take me antiquing sometime? Karen can tell you my flat is really kind of. Ah." Sören shrugged.  
  
"Spartan," Karen said.  
  
"It's pre-furnished," Sören said, "but maybe if I get a few odds and ends it might feel more like home, moreso than if I get something from a big box store. Since I feel like I should return the favor and have you guys visit once in awhile."  
  
"Well, I'm always happy to entertain guests here," Nicholas said, "but it would be enjoyable to have company the next time I browse antique shops." Nicholas smiled.  
  
"Awwww, I'm so glad you guys are bonding," Karen said, reaching out to squeeze both of them.  
  
  
_  
  
  
As it got later, it was time for them to go. Karen and Geir hugged Nicholas together. "Thank you for having us over, Dad," Karen said.  
  
"It was a pleasure having you."  
  
Sören came over and reached out his hand to shake. "Thanks, Nick." There it was again, just slipping out. "Er. Daddy." Sören's face was on fire. _"Daddy" indeed._  
  
Nicholas took Sören's hand. "I'm glad to have finally met you, Sören. I'm looking forward to seeing more of you."  
  
Sören's mind immediately went in the gutter, a mental image of getting naked and giving Nicholas an eyeful. He batted that thought out of his head as hard as Tobias was currently batting around a toy mouse on the floor.  
  
But, as bashful as he felt, he was grateful enough for the kindness, the hospitality, that he found himself giving Nicholas a hug. After a few seconds Nicholas returned the hug, and the feeling of Nicholas's arms around him made Sören feel weak and light-headed. He was blushing fiercely on the way out, giggling.  
  
"Night Dad!" Geir called out, and Karen said, "Good night, Dad."  
  
"Night Daddy," Sören said, and quickly ducked into the lift - much as he hated riding in that thing.  
  
He went back with Geir and Karen to their place, and there was more hot tea when they got in. Geir put an arm around Sören, and Sören took Geir's hand as he leaned on Karen's shoulder. "That was really nice," Sören said.  
  
"He's a very dear man," Karen said. She giggled. "Even if his students call him Tyrannus."  
  
Sören laughed. "Well, you know. I almost married the Shark." And then Sören sighed deeply. "Anthony was my best friend, not just my lover."  
  
Karen kissed Sören's cheek. "It's normal to still miss him, Sören. You loved him very much. That kind of love doesn't just go away overnight."  
  
"I think it's even worse than it normally would be because..." Sören sighed again. "I don't have friends, really. I work all the time. I'm friendly with my colleagues, but like... they work all the time too and even if they had time to get together, I don't want to mix my personal life with work. So meeting Nicholas, it..." Sören put a hand to his heart. "It hurts, in a good way."  
  
And then Sören started to cry. "Oh god, I'm sorry. Here I go again..."  
  
"Shhhhhh." Geir leaned in and kissed Sören's brow. "What do you need?"  
  
"Can both of you hold me for awhile? Like... is that gonna be awkward?"  
  
"We cuddle all the time," Karen said, and Geir nodded. "So having you in the middle won't be awkward, no."  
  
"Why don't we get under some covers?" Geir asked. "Warm blankets might be soothing."  
  
They went upstairs and Karen turned down the covers of her bed. Sören and Geir got in pajamas and brushed their teeth while Karen fed Nemo, then Karen visited the restroom while Sören and Geir watched Nemo swimming around. Karen came back in pajamas, turned off the lights, and the three climbed into bed together, with Sören in the middle. Geir and Karen pulled the covers up to Sören's chin and wrapped themselves around Sören, holding him tight.  
  
Sören cried for awhile, letting it out, as Karen and Geir rocked him and pet him and rained little kisses over his curls, his face. But the tears subsided as Sören snuggled into the comfort of his lovers, the safety of their arms, and the blankets around them like a shield. Everything had felt so hopeless for so long after he and Anthony split up - his work had been keeping him alive, the purpose of saving lives, but that wasn't really a _life_ , when he came back to a home that wasn't a home, when he had nobody, just emptiness. But now he had three people he cared about, and a cat to spoil, and he was actually going to do Christmas with them and everything. He hadn't even acknowledged Christmas last year, apart from a very flat greeting to patients and co-workers. Christmas had been particularly bitter last year, as Anthony had proposed to him on Christmas Eve 2012, and it would have been their first Christmas as a married couple. Sören had gotten very drunk at home alone last Christmas and hated himself for it, because even though he was only a moderate drinker most of the time, his aunt and uncle had ruined every holiday getting drunk, and he didn't want to be like them even a little. He had been dreading this one but now...  
  
It was the season of hope, and giving, and Sören felt like he had been given a gift, and hope again.  
  
"I love you, you know," Karen said.  
  
"I love you too, _elskan._ " Sören cuddled closer to her.  
  
"You have Tuesday evening free?"  
  
Sören nodded. He was starting to drift off, but somehow he still remembered that. "I get off at four. Though I have to be in at six on Wednesday morning, Christmas Eve."  
  
"OK. You want to get together on Tuesday? I'd like to take that rain check on me-and-you time."  
  
Geir patted Karen. "Yeah, we'll work out some kind of schedule for sharing you."  
  
"And taking you over to Nicholas's." Karen giggled again. " _Neek._ Though it looks like you might get some time with him yourself, as well."  
  
"Tuesday night is good," Sören mumbled, yawning, sleepy, even as his face was burning thinking of spending time alone with Nicholas.  
  
"OK." Karen kissed his brow. "You should get some rest."  
  
And like that, Sören fell asleep in Karen and Geir's arms.


	9. Precious Things

Karen smiled as she put her head on Sören's shoulder, his arm tightening around her waist. The sun had just set and snowflakes were falling in the blue dusk of evening, sparkling under the mellow gold of streetlights. Their breath steamed the air as they made their way down the sidewalk, looking at either side of the street to see if any shops caught their fancy.  
  
Sören began to tug on Karen's sleeve like an excited little kid, pointing at the window of an antiques shop, with wooden furniture and a mirror in the window. " _Curious Goods._ That sounds interesting, let's go in there."  
  
Two ravens were perching on the roof of the shop, and one of the birds croaked as they approached. The other flew off the roof and took a shit on the sidewalk before alighting, shaking its head, croaking. For a minute it seemed to Karen almost like the bird was trying to give a warning, _Don't go in here,_ but that was ridiculous, it was just a raven.  
  
Sören held open the door for Karen, bells jingling at the door, and she stepped inside. Most stores were climate-controlled, and the inside of the antiques shop was as chilly as the outside, like the heat wasn't on at all. She also felt vaguely uneasy in a way she couldn't put her finger on. Nonetheless, she took Sören's hand and they began to walk through the store together.  
  
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Karen asked.  
  
"Something for Nicholas," Sören said, nodding. "A pocket watch."  
  
Karen felt that sharp ache in her chest again, and leaned in to kiss Sören's cheek, touched by the thoughtful gesture of replacing the broken pocket watch in time for the ballet, when anyplace to get it repaired was closed for the holidays. He had only just met Nicholas but Karen could tell that already, they were family to each other. Sören's brown eyes sparkled, a little smile on his face at the mention of Nicholas.  
  
"A pocket watch, you say?" came a deep voice.  
  
The owner of the voice stepped out of one of the shop's showrooms. He was at least a foot taller than Sören, and had warm gold-white platinum blonde hair down to his waist. He was wearing sunglasses indoors at night, which Karen found unsettling even as she knew she should probably be more considerate of someone who was possibly blind. The man had a chiseled, beautiful face, someone who could easily have gone into modeling, and he dressed with flair - a red ruffled poet's blouse with a black vest, and black trousers embroidered with an outline of red roses. Karen noticed the ring on his left hand, a white gold spider set with something that looked like a large black opal, very fiery. The man reminded her of that daydream she'd had listening to the Joy Division cover band, the man she'd imagined stealing her bag. A shiver went through her.  
  
Sören's jaw dropped and his eyes widened, and he whispered, "You."  
  
"Oh, ah... hello there." The man smiled but there was no warmth to it. "Fancy seeing you again. Here, I have an entire collection of pocket watches under glass, let me show you."  
  
Sören hesitated, and Karen's uneasiness intensified - she was about to suggest they leave, but she didn't want to be rude. Then Sören moved along, almost like he was being compelled, and Karen followed cautiously. The man walked back into the showroom he'd just come out of, and they passed through a maze of mirrors and wooden wardrobes and dresser stands and chairs, old paintings and shelves of old books with that old book smell. Under other circumstances Karen could get lost in a place like this for hours just looking at the books alone, but she was feeling nervous about just going to the case of watches, and feeling like she was being irrational, but couldn't shake it.  
  
The display case had a dozen pocket watches in it, gold and silver and rose gold. Each pocket watch had a price tag and a little note attached with its date and where it had been acquired - most through estate sales. None of the watches were cheap, Karen knew that an authentic vintage pocket watch from roughly the same era as Nicholas's would be out of her own price range, but Sören as a doctor could better afford it, though it would still be extravagant.  
  
"I can give you a discount, with it being the holidays and all." The man folded his arms and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Just let me know which one you want, hm?"  
  
Sören looked at the case but he was frowning, and finally he looked up and shook his head. " _Takk_ , but. No." Then he put his arm around Karen and began marching out of the showroom, as fast as he could without outright running, banging out of the glass door with the bells jingling behind them.  
  
Sören shuddered, and one of the ravens croaked from the rooftop, before they flew off. "Sören, are you OK?" Karen reached up to touch his face, his skin even warmer than usual, almost feverish. Sören looked away, but there was a set in his jaw and a furrow in his brow. "You... you know that guy?"  
  
"Sort of?" Their eyes met. "So, ah. On my birthday last month, I was in a bachelor auction for charity, to benefit the children's hospital. He bid on me."  
  
"Oh!"  
  
"He didn't win, though he sure tried. I'm glad he didn't win because I talked to him a little before the auction started, I'd gone out to get some air and he was out there fucking _smoking a cigarette._ " Sören made a face, then his scowl returned. "He also gave me really creepy vibes for some reason. I know that sounds mean, but -"  
  
"No Sören." Karen exhaled sharply. "It's not just you. I felt it too."  
  
"Oh good." Then Sören chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his curls. "Well, I don't mean good that you were creeped out, I mean good that -"  
  
Karen patted his shoulder. "I know what you mean."  
  
"That whole place felt wrong," Sören said. "Like... some pocket dimension of... gross, weird shit. I know that sounds utterly fucking daft."  
  
"No, it doesn't. I felt it too."  
  
Sören's eyes widened and then he laughed and began ushering Karen away from the shop, as if the creepy influence extended even outside of it. "Like if you opened one of those wardrobes you'd end up in Shit Narnia, or something."  
  
Karen gigglesnorted. "Shit Narnia."  
  
"Jæja... with a lion named Ass-lan."  
  
Karen had to pause in her tracks, doubling over. Then she grabbed Sören and squeezed him. "Have I told you lately that I love you, Sören Sigurðsson?"  
  
"I never get tired of hearing it, _elskan_." His voice got husky as he said, "And I love you too."  
  
Then Sören pulled her into a kiss. Their lips parted and their tongues met, swirling, seeking, playing. Karen felt heat and chills all at once, skin tingling with gooseflesh, nipples hardening, her body aching for his touch. She could taste the hot chocolate they'd gotten by the Tube station, and a hint of the breath mint he'd been sucking on at the front door of her flat. She thought about tasting herself on him. Her hands ran over his trenchcoat, teasing, a promise of her hands on his body later. Sören's hands slid down her spine to cup her ass, gently kneading, making her throb and twinge with raw need.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing harder, Sören's pupils blown, eyes glazed with lust. Lust that she returned, taking his face between her hands and stealing another kiss, moaning into the kiss as her body pressed against his, wanting to feel him skin to skin. But that would be later.  
  
She could feel herself dripping when the kiss broke, and Sören stroked her face, her hair, planted a soft, sweet kiss on her forehead. She giggled when he kissed the tip of her nose, smiling. More snow was falling, glittering like diamonds on Sören's curls and lashes. The way his face lit up with a big grin, eyes shining with love as he looked at her, Karen always wanted to remember him this way.  
  
They resumed walking, and Sören's smile became a frown. "What is it?" Karen asked, hoping he wasn't thinking of Anthony again.  
  
"Oh, I don't know where I'm going to find a pocket watch for Nicholas now." Sören sighed.  
  
"Well, I'm sure he'd be happy with something else, like maybe a nice vase, or..."  
  
Sören nodded. "I just. You know. Thought it would be good to get him a pocket watch that he could wear to the ballet." Sören sighed again.  
  
They continued past some other shops, boutiques and menswear stores. There was a scented candle shop and Sören dragged her inside and proceeded to sniff a few dozen different candle scents until Karen dragged him back out, laughing. "We need to shop before the stores close, Sören."  
  
Then there was a candy shop and Karen dragged Sören inside. She sampled assorted chocolates and caramels and toffees and mints and fudge until Sören raised an eyebrow. "What's that about shopping before the stores close?"  
  
But before they left, they loaded up on chocolates and fudge. Outside the shop Karen opened a container of peanut butter fudge and shoved a piece in Sören's mouth and kissed him, the fudge melting in their mouths, tongues teasing, tasting, savoring.  
  
They still hadn't done any major shopping, and Karen was about to suggest they go to a department store when Sören pointed at a storefront a few shops down. "Theresa's Treasures," Sören said. The shop lights were on and the sign said Open, and the front window was filled with pretty things - delicate hand-painted silk fans, ornate lacquered vases with dried flowers and eucalyptus, a large amethyst geode standing upright, a stained glass peacock in a frame.  
  
The store had soft gold lighting and the smell of rose incense greeted them as they walked in. Stevie Nicks was playing in the background and a very tall woman dressed in a plum peasant blouse, a violet paisley broomstick skirt, and a purple tie-dye headscarf, with dark brown hair hanging in loose waves to her waist, was swaying around the shop, singing along in a husky contralto. When she turned to face them Karen noticed she had startlingly green eyes, probably contacts, her eyes lined with kohl, and a lovely face. Karen also noticed that she seemed maybe the same age as them but somehow felt older, like a mother welcoming them home.  
  
"Helloooo," the woman said, smiling.  
  
"Hi." Sören gave her a confused look, and Karen wondered if he knew her like he'd sort of known the proprietor of the other antique shop.  
  
The atmosphere was much more inviting than Curious Goods had been. Sören giggled at a cuckoo clock, and then he made a beeline for a table with compartments for different gemstones, some rough and some tumbled, and there was a centerpiece of larger crystals. Sören picked up a big chunk of labradorite and made it flash blue and gold in the light, and Karen heard his breath hitch.  
  
Karen watched as Sören picked up different rocks - an amethyst cluster, a thick ametrine point, a sphere of Oregon sunstone. He turned them this way and that, watching them catch the light, a look of awe on his face.  
  
"There are also stone carvings," the woman said, and led Sören to a nearby table. Sören squeaked at a labradorite carved into a turtle, and smiled at a fairy carved of clear quartz.  
  
"I wish I could work with stones," Sören said, his voice hushed, reverent. "I'd love to make jewelry or stone carvings. Of course..." He sighed. "I barely have time to paint, let alone any of that..."  
  
Sören picked up a spiraling selenite tower. "God, this is so pretty."  
  
"There's smaller ones across the table," the woman said, pointing to a bin on the opposite end of the table. "Also tiger's eye carved the same way..."  
  
Sören picked up a tiny spiraling selenite tower and smiled at it, and then when he withdrew a spiral of tiger's eye he threw his head back and his laughter rang out. "Oh my god, it's a poo emoji."  
  
Karen couldn't unsee it and she started laughing too. She glanced self-consciously at the shopkeeper, who just smiled at them. "Oh no. _Oh no._ "  
  
"I fucking can't." Sören looked at the shopkeeper. "How much?"  
  
"Normally twenty quid, but if you buy at least a hundred pounds worth of merchandise I'll give it to you for free, since it's the holidays."  
  
"...OK." Sören looked around at the baroque mirrors and Oriental carpets and stained glass and pursed his lips. "I should get something for other people, too..." Sören stroked his beard.  
  
"We have jewelry," the shopkeeper said. "Some really unique pieces, artisan made, that you won't find anywhere else."  
  
"This is going out on a limb, maybe, but do you happen to have pocket watches? Like, antique pocket watches?"  
  
"I have a few of those." She gestured for them to follow.  
  
There was a case near the cash register of rings and pendants and four pocket watches. "Are you from Iceland, by any chance?" the shopkeeper asked.  
  
Sören's eyebrows went up. "I am, but..."  
  
"Your accent gives it away." The shopkeeper slid open the glass and pulled out a silver pocket watch, on a silver chain set with what looked like a fob made of a round black pearl. "This was previously owned by an Icelandic gentleman, and he said it belonged to his grandfather before him. He was selling it to pay for a trip to Australia, which is how it came into my possession. The stone is a piece of volcanic lava from Eyja -" Her voice trailed off, not bothering with the name, which Karen knew almost nobody outside of Iceland could pronounce correctly; she certainly couldn't.  
  
Sören's lips quirked with amusement. "Eyjafjallajökull," he enunciated.  
  
"...Yes." She popped open the watch and there was an interesting symbol etched in the metal of the inside cover, that looked like a compass made of runes.  
  
"It's a _vegvísir_." Sören blinked.  
  
"You know what that is?" Karen asked, then immediately felt stupid for asking.  
  
"Já." Sören nodded and folded his arms. "It's, ah... it's runic. From a medieval grimoire. _Ef þetta merki er borið mun maður aldrei glata manni í óveðrum eða vonskuveðri, jafnvel þó að leiðin sé ekki þekkt_ \- if this sign is carried, you will never lose your way in storms or bad weather, even if the way is not known." Sören made a "give it" gesture to the shopkeeper, who put the watch in his hand. Sören ran his index finger and thumb over the etching in the metal, staring at it intently. The watch was ticking, and on the correct time. He met the shopkeeper's eyes. "How much."  
  
The shopkeeper leaned in and whispered a figure into Sören's ear, cupping her hands around her mouth as she spoke. Sören's eyes widened and his eyebrows went up, and then his brow furrowed and he scowled, but then he nodded. "OK."  
  
"I can hold this for you if you want to look around some more," the shopkeeper said.  
  
"I do, _takk._ "  
  
Sören and Karen wandered, Sören's attention drawn to a large oval mirror set in a frame of carved mahogany, two birds facing each other side to side, wings spread. It reminded Karen of the tattoo on Sören's back, and she could tell Sören noticed it too, his lips parted, eyes wide with wonder. He circled the mirror, searching for a price tag, and when he found it he said, "Hm."  
  
"Are you going to get it?" Karen asked.  
  
Sören shook his head. "Not today. I'm already getting that pocket watch and..." Sören chuckled. "I need to think of something for you and Geir. So. Ah." Sören looked off to the side. "I'm gonna wander off, no peeking..."  
  
That also meant Karen could possibly shop for Sören without him peeking. Karen went over to where Sören had been standing to check the price tag of the mirror after he strolled off, and she gawped at the price - just under five hundred quid. It wasn't that Sören wasn't worth it, but that was considerably more than she had intended to spend on anybody's gift. She also told herself that even if she had that kind of money, she'd have to lug the mirror home on the Tube and try to get it past Sören, not wanting to ruin the surprise of his present.  
  
She went back to the table of minerals where Sören had been playing with the different crystals, enthralled. It was hard to narrow down the selection, and it seemed like something Sören should pick out himself, anyway. She continued walking around, at a loss of what to give him in the sea of decor, until she came to a shelf of old books. She couldn't resist the allure of old books, and she gasped with delight when she saw a hardbound volume of T.S. Eliot's _Four Quartets_. She remembered Sören lamenting that Anthony had given him books of poetry their first Christmas together and he'd left them behind when he'd moved out. It felt like she was meant to find this somehow, not just giving back something he'd lost, but it seemed symbolic of giving back his lost heart, his lost fire...  
  
The copy of _Four Quartets_ was a first edition, in good used condition with a few marks and a little browning from age. It had that musty old book smell. The price tag was just under a hundred quid. Before she could talk herself out of it, Karen marched on over to the register, where the shopkeeper was lingering, expecting their purchases. She handed the book over to the shopkeeper, who nodded and smiled with approval.  
  
"It's good to see people your age who still read," she said.  
  
Karen raised an eyebrow at that - the shopkeeper didn't look that much older than they were. She wondered if the woman had some work done, then thought to herself that was rude.  
  
Karen had already gotten presents for Nicholas and Geir earlier in the month, at the Royal Opera House gift shop. She decided to not wait by the register in case Sören would be carrying something not easily concealed; there were a group of chairs near the shop window, a rack of hanging rugs creating a cozy little enclosure. Karen sat on a leather armchair and leaned back. She closed her eyes and found herself dozing off a little, strangely relaxed.  
  
"There she is," came the shopkeeper's voice.  
  
Karen blinked her eyes open and Sören was smiling at her, which made Karen smile back. Sören took her hands and pulled Karen to her feet, kissing the tip of her nose once she was standing up.  
  
"Thank you very much for everything," Sören said. "I'll be back at some point to look again at a few things that caught my eye."  
  
"Good," the shopkeeper said, nodding. Then she looked at a nearby grandfather clock, observing the time, and back at them, cocking her head to one side. "Customers who spend over two hundred fifty pounds are entitled to a free Tarot reading. Would you like one?"  
  
Sören glanced at Karen, looking incredulous. Sören looked back at the shopkeeper and said simply, "I'm an atheist."  
  
"It's for entertainment purposes only," the shopkeeper said. "A bit of fun."  
  
"I don't see the harm in it," Karen said, feeling strangely curious even as she knew most people claiming to be psychic were frauds. "We don't have to hurry home just yet."  
  
"O...OK. If you really want to." Sören pursed his lips and folded his arms, a look that clearly stated he was uncomfortable with this but he'd do it for her.  
  
Karen patted him and the shopkeeper took them to a back room. They slipped behind a red silk curtain, and sat on a plump, squashy purple velvet couch, in front of a glass-topped oak coffee table. The shopkeeper took a seat in a cream armchair with a purple throw on it across from them, and opened a small treasure chest sitting on the coffee table, pulling out a deck of cards. She handed the deck to Sören. "Cut the cards, please."  
  
Sören hesitated, but then he split the deck in half, passing the cards back to the shopkeeper, who gave them a few shuffles, looking back and forth between Karen and Sören, studying them.  
  
"Who am I doing this reading for?" the shopkeeper asked.  
  
Sören was squirming, and Karen felt impish enough to point at him, deciding that would be more fun than getting a reading for herself. Sören turned beetroot and opened his mouth but no sound came out.  
  
"Do you have a specific question, dear?"  
  
Sören shook his head. "Whatever the cards want to tell me, I guess."  
  
The shopkeeper continued shuffling, and at last she began to deal the cards. The first one she laid out horizontally, and the second one she placed over it in the standard vertical position. She arranged four cards around it in an equal-armed cross, and four cards going up on the right side of the cross. The shopkeeper took a deep breath, closed her eyes and rubbed her hands together, and then she began to turn the cards over.  
  
She pointed to the first card she'd drawn, underneath the second card; she plucked out the first card from under the second card and passed it over to Karen and Sören. "This card represents you," the shopkeeper said, and Karen and Sören saw it was the King of Wands. "Wands is the element of fire."  
  
"Well, that's accurate," Karen said, and Sören looked away, swallowing.  
  
"And this is your challenge or obstacle or problem," the shopkeeper said, gesturing to the second card, which was The Lovers inverted.  
  
Sören stared at his boots.  
  
"These are the influences," the shopkeeper said, pointing to The Tower, "and this is the root," she said, pointing to the Six of Wands reversed. "With The Tower I can see some sort of upheaval, a radical change of schedule, life thrown out of whack, everything falling apart. The Six of Wands is a card of victory, success, accomplishments, but inverted it represents pride, or a display of _acting_ prideful because of insecurity, perhaps past loss or defeat..."  
  
" _Jesus_ ," Sören hissed.  
  
The shopkeeper gestured to the Eight of Cups. "This is the past. Walking away, leaving, disillusionment..."  
  
Sören glared.  
  
The shopkeeper pointed at the Three of Swords reversed. "This is your present. Trying to recover from a broken heart, letting go, moving on..."  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
The shopkeeper pointed at the King of Swords. "This is your future. In this case it seems less like a what and more like a who. Tall, dark, intellectual, dominant."  
  
Karen felt a frisson down her spine. A reading that had started as just for fun and probably wouldn't amount to much was eerily on point. She wondered who the King of Swords was... Geir was tall and dark, though the King of Swords didn't seem like an obvious fit for him. It _did_ fit Anthony to a T, not that Karen knew for sure about the dominant part of that, but that didn't make any sense since Sören and Anthony were long since done...  
  
The shopkeeper moved to the column of four cards on the right side of the cross. She touched the bottom card. "This is the attitude of your King of Swords." It was the Five of Cups. "This is a card of grief. Of regret, remorse."  
  
Sören's eyes were too bright.  
  
The shopkeeper touched the card above it. "This is the environment or circumstances surrounding that future." It was the Nine of Swords. "Something is going to happen, whether to you or the King of Swords here, some sort of trauma that will cause one of you to reach out to the other."  
  
Then the card above that. "This card represents hopes and fears." It was The Fool. "Here is a desire for a new beginning, a clean slate. There is also the fear of being fooled, being taken in, tricked, duped in some way..."  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
The shopkeeper handed over the last card. "This is the outcome." It was the Four of Wands. "This represents home, the family or community... in a time of celebration."  
  
Sören sat there like a statue, very, very quiet. The shopkeeper leaned back and watched him, and finally Sören got up. "Thank you for your time," he said coldly, and with his bag rustling, he marched out. Karen hurried after him, giving an apologetic smile on her way out.  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths once he was out of the shop, looking shaken. Karen instinctively put her arms around him.  
  
"I know that hit a nerve," Karen said.  
  
Sören laughed bitterly. "Well, I expected the reading to be a crock of shit... and it was a crock of shit. That motherfucker and I are done. D-O-N-E, done. Period. End of fucking story."  
  
Karen heard the beating of wings, looked up and noticed there were two ravens perched on top of the shop building, and wondered if it was the same ravens from earlier or a different pair. One of the ravens croaked out something that sounded oddly enough like " _Shan't._ "  
  
"Here," Karen said, taking Sören's hand. "Let's go back to my place and I'll make us dinner and we can work on those Christmas biscuits you were talking about, yeah?"  
  
"Good plan." Sören kissed Karen's cheek, his eyes sad. Karen ached for him. "I welcome the distraction right about now. I definitely want to go back there some time, maybe show Nicholas some things, but remind me to never get a Tarot reading again." Sören shook his head and snorted. "What bullshit."  
  
  
_  
  
  
For dinner Karen made a chicken curry with a coconut milk red sauce, served over rice. Sören loved spicy food and he raved about the curry as he did dishes, giving Karen a warm glow of pride.  
  
When Sören arrived after work he'd surprised Karen by bringing over ingredients to make a few different kinds of Icelandic Christmas biscuits, which he wanted to bring over to Nicholas's tomorrow. They got changed, Sören into a heather grey T-shirt and maroon boxer-briefs, and Karen in a lavender camisole and royal purple pajama bottoms, and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Karen couldn't help smiling as they assembled the ingredients now along with the baking sheet, mixing bowl and cutters - it was thoughtful of him to want to make something, but especially when he had been working all day and had to go in early tomorrow. And not just thoughtful to make them to share with Nicholas, her and Geir, but also Karen adored baking and it would be even more fun to have someone to bake with.  
  
"I miss baking," Sören said as he put a USB stick in Karen's portable Mp3 stereo and turned up the speakers. "I haven't done it since..." His voice trailed off and he frowned.  
  
"Since Anthony." Karen completed the sentence.  
  
Sören nodded, scowling. "I didn't get to do it _too_ often, since, you know, I work a lot and it leaves me ragged most of the time, but when I did cook he really appreciated it, and when I baked he really, _really_ appreciated it. He liked it when I made cake."  
  
The thought of the Shark of Lincoln's Inn secretly having a sweet tooth amused Karen. But she also felt a twinge of sadness for Sören's loss, and much as she disliked Anthony, more and more that came out about their relationship suggested they had been _so good_ together, making Sören's grief particularly tragic. She couldn't blame him for still being hung up on him, just from the bits and pieces he shared about their life together.  
  
Sören sighed. "Enough about that arse." He turned on the faucet and began to scrub his hands, as thoroughly as if he were about to perform surgery.  
  
Karen had given Sören carte blanche with music, and had been expecting something old-school gothy, or perhaps even Christmas music. "Hot Like Fire" by Aaliyah started playing and that threw her - not that she minded, but it was surprising.  
  
"I need something kind of upbeat to listen to while I work," Sören said. I don't want to do rock because that reminds me too much of surgery. So R&B and hip-hop it is." Sören scowled. "Anthony likes R&B."  
  
That surprised Karen even more - she would have pegged Anthony as an indie rock type, though she knew he could of course like both.  
  
They set to work making batches of _piparkökur_ , like gingersnaps, _spesíur_ which was sugar cookies, and Sören's personal favorite, _lakkrístoppar_ , made with chocolate and licorice. It amused Karen to see Sören dancing around the kitchen, especially when "Turn Down For What" by Lil Jon came on and Sören started twerking.  
  
Between the oven preheating and the warmth always radiating from Sören, the kitchen was a bit warm, and Karen opened the fridge for cold drinks. It was a special occasion, so she took out two small bottles of Irn Bru that Ben had brought down from Scotland. Sören raised an eyebrow when Karen put it in his hand.  
  
"This is really orange," Sören said.  
  
"You've never had Irn Bru before?"  
  
"No, but I'll try just about anything once." Sören opened his bottle and took a swig. "Oh. Hm. That's interesting."  
  
"Bad interesting or good interesting?"  
  
"Yes." Sören took another swig, while Karen giggled.  
  
Karen pondered for a moment. Then she said, "Let's make a fourth batch of biscuits. Macarons."  
  
"OK." Sören glanced at his bottle of Irn Bru. "Can you put Irn Bru in them?"  
  
"I can, but Nicholas would probably lose his mind."  
  
"Yes. That's... the point."  
  
Karen gigglesnorted. She had to admit the reaction from Nicholas would well be worth the cost of labor.  
  
She pulled another two bottles of Irn Bru out from the fridge and checked her recipe for macarons, thinking about how to modify the recipe to add in the soda. When she had figured something out, she began to work on the batter, and then Sören dipped in a clean spoon and ate a spoonful of raw Irn Bru dough.  
  
"Sören Sigurðsson." Karen put a hand on her hip. "That is raw biscuit dough."  
  
"As you know," Sören said, licking the spoon.  
  
A few minutes later, Sören stole another spoonful of dough with a fresh spoon. At the mischievous look he gave her, Karen scooped up a handful of flour that was sitting on the rolling board, and tossed it in Sören's face. A cloud of flour exploded in his curls and on his shirt, and as it rolled back Karen saw Sören's face completely white, even his eyebrows and beard and eyelashes were caked in flour. He looked such a sight that Karen leaned against the counter, doubled over.  
  
Sören blinked, his facial expression intensely serious, making Karen laugh even harder. Then Sören grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it at Karen. She dodged, though not quickly enough to miss it completely, with some landing in her hair.  
  
As soon as Karen rose up, she was greeted with a faceful of flour, and Sören grinning at her.  
  
"Crazy In Love" by Beyoncé came on, a song Karen liked, and she turned the volume up on the stereo. Then she took the opportunity to get a cup of flour out of the bag and threw it at Sören.  
  
Sören grabbed the bag of flour and began chasing Karen around the kitchen, pouring flour into his hands and tossing handfuls of flour at her like they were bombs. Karen screamed and giggled, trying to duck out of the way, but Sören finally cornered her and dumped a cup of flour over her head, Karen in hysterics.  
  
Geir got in just then, and when he walked into the kitchen to heat up the leftover curry Karen had promised him earlier, he paused and stared at Sören and Karen.  
  
"Do I have to get Nicholas in here to give you time-outs?" Geir teased.  
  
"Probably," Karen said, grinning.  
  
Then Geir took out his cell phone and snapped photos of them, caked in flour. Sören put an arm around Karen and raised his hand and Karen gave him a suspicious look while Geir snapped another photo, shaking with silent laughter. He turned over the phone and Karen saw Sören was making bunny ears over her head.  
  
After Geir microwaved his curry he said, "I'll leave you two crazy kids alone." He grabbed Sören's ass and winked at him on the way out.  
  
"Ugh," Karen said, looking at the mess of flour on the floor, "what a disaster area."  
  
"I'll help you clean it, don't worry. But first..." Sören stole another spoonful of cookie dough.  
  
Karen glared at him, fighting off laughter. "You're incorrigible."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
"You're also a barbarian," Karen teased. "You... heathen barbarian Icelander, you."  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. "And what, you're the civilized one?"  
  
"That's right," Karen said. "I would _never_ deign to do such a heathen barbarian act as eating raw biscuit dough." She had, of course.  
  
Sören's eyes twinkled, as he got that innocent look on his face that Karen knew by now wasn't innocent at all. His lips quirked as he took his shirt off, then dipped another spoon into the cookie dough batter and dropped a dollop of cookie dough over the middle of his bare chest. Then another dollop, over his left nipple. And another dollop, over the right one. "Whoopsidoodle," Sören said. "I made quite a mess here. I'll have to clean it off, but it's a shame for perfectly good cookie dough to go to waste..."  
  
Their eyes met. Karen knew exactly what Sören wanted, and a frisson went through her. She came over to where he was standing, then she shoved him up against the wall, leaned down, and proceeded to lick the dough batter off his bare chest, first cleaning it from the bare skin in the center of his chest, then from one pec above and below the aerole, then she lapped a nipple hard and fast, suckled it, making Sören groan, clutching her hair. She turned her head to the other pec, cleaning off the raw dough around it before what was on the nipple, rubbing her tongue, teasing it, sucking hard. Sören shuddered and gasped, trembling against her. Karen's hand strayed to the hard bulge in Sören's boxer-briefs, pawing it, rubbing in slow, sensual circles as she went back to the other nipple, licking and licking. "Have to make sure it's really clean," she husked before drawing it into her mouth, pulling on it.  
  
Sören made a precious little whimper and Karen felt herself dripping. She'd been aching for him for hours, and now heat was searing her, desperate to feel his hands, his tongue, his cock. She nibbled on a nipple and Sören moaned, and her hand pressed the bulge in his boxer-briefs more firmly, rubbing harder.  
  
Karen rose up to kiss him, stroking his beard as his full, soft lips slid against hers, their tongues teasing. Sören began to kiss her neck, and now it was Karen's turn to moan, louder as Sören's thumb rubbed a nipple through her camisole.  
  
"We better stop or these cookies will never get done," Sören rasped.  
  
Karen pouted, but he was right. And then that mischievous look was back in his eye as he reached for the spoon again and before Karen knew what was happening, a dollop of cookie dough fell between her breasts. Sören's free hand played with a camisole strap, exposing a breast, and another dollop of cookie dough slid down to her nipple.  
  
"Oops." Sören grabbed Karen and leaned in, kissing and licking between her breasts, making Karen shiver at the feel of his lips and tongue. And then he was lapping the cookie dough from her nipple, sucking it off, moaning "mmmmmm" as he sucked. Karen grabbed his curls, panting.  
  
"God, Sören..."  
  
He peeled down the camisole top to reveal her other breast. "Can't leave this one out," he husked, turning his face to work on the other, tongue rubbing around and around the aerole before lashing the nipple. Karen cried out as Sören's lips latched onto her nipple, sucking hard.  
  
Then Sören, damn him, leaned up and grinned at her, and stole another spoonful of cookie dough, sucking on the spoon as he took a fresh spoon and began to drop the dough onto the baking sheet.  
  
The cookies all needed different temperatures and baking times, which meant keeping an eye on the kitchen timer. They started with the ones that needed the lowest temperature, and when they were in the oven, Karen and Sören cleaned up the flour mess in the kitchen and did dishes together - Karen twinging the entire time, wanting to throw Sören down on the floor and ride him right there on the kitchen floor. But she knew once he was in her, she wouldn't want to stop, and they would keep getting interrupted by the timer. So they had to wait just yet. That was OK... they could build the anticipation, they could tease, making the release that much better later.  
  
Karen led Sören out to the couch and they sat for a moment.  
  
"What are we going to do to pass the time?" Sören gave her a pointed look.  
  
"I can think of something."  
  
Karen straddled his lap and he was kissing between her breasts again, then she cradled his head as he sucked on a nipple. Karen took one of Sören's hands and pushed it down her pajama bottoms, guided it to where she was aching. Sören groaned and lapped feverishly at a nipple as his fingers rubbed back and forth. "You are so, so wet, _elskan_ ," Sören growled before his lips seized the nipple again, pulling on it.  
  
"This is what you do to me, Sören. I'm wet for you."  
  
Sören took the nipple out of his mouth and gave her a lazy grin. "Hi Wet For You, I'm -"  
  
Karen grabbed his curls and pulled hard as she seized his mouth, kissing him roughly. Then she climbed off him, took off her camisole, and shucked her pajama bottoms. "We need to find something to do with that smart mouth of yours."  
  
"Yes, we do, I agree."  
  
Karen shoved Sören down, climbed on him again, and scooted up to sit on his face. She grabbed his curls again, pulling, and Sören moaned as he took his first lick.  
  
Sören licked slowly, around and around her clit, teasing her. He kissed her folds, sucking on them, then his tongue was rubbing around her clit some more, slow, delicious torture. Karen's voice rose and fell as Sören's tongue worked its wicked magic, teasing her. She could feel herself dripping and every now and again Sören slurped at her juices, groaning. Karen felt Sören shaking a little, and judging from the movement of his right shoulder, he was touching himself. That was confirmed when Karen heard a wet rattling sound and Sören shuddered, moaning. Knowing he was so worked up that he needed to stroke himself got Karen even more aroused.  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " His tongue finally brushed her clit, making her gasp. "You taste so good." He met her eyes and licked his lips before he lapped at her clit some more.  
  
His tongue teasing around her clit was exquisite; his tongue directly on her clit was bliss. Karen couldn't control the moans and whimpers that escaped her as Sören's tongue rubbed away, slowly at first then faster, faster. The pleasure and tension built until she was keening, thighs quivering, and then Sören slowed down again and went back to just licking around her clit, driving her mad with frustrated need.  
  
Then the timer rang. Sören gave her an evil grin as she climbed down, snarling, and marched over to pull out one sheet of cookies and put another in. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sören stroking his hard cock, his other hand playing with his nipples, arched, panting, moaning. She was dripping down her leg, fighting off the urge to rub against the counter, getting desperate to come. Once the timer for the next batch of cookies was set, she stormed back over to him, almost angry in her determination to feel that delicious tongue on her, and climbed on his face again.  
  
Sören started teasing around her clit again, making Karen pant and gasp and whimper, going out of her mind. When his tongue slowly brushed her clit, Karen howled and Sören laughed softly. Then he drew her clit into his mouth, sucking, making slurping noises, and Karen bucked, almost sobbing at how good it felt. "Oh god. Oh god Sören... _Sören._ Right there. Just like that..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören kept sucking her, sipping at her juices, and Karen heard herself making inhuman noises. She pulled on her own nipples, and started to thrust against his face, fucking herself on his mouth.  
  
But then, just before she could climax, he stopped sucking on her clit and licked around it, teasing her again, and then his tongue pushed inside her. The feel of his tongue rubbing slowly inside her was so intensely pleasurable it almost hurt. As badly as she needed to come, she never wanted him to stop doing that. Soon she was riding his face again and his tongue lashed away inside her, faster and faster, moaning into her as she screamed and sobbed.  
  
When Sören's tongue pulled out of her Karen almost cried, and then his tongue was on her clit again, and his hand left his cock so his fingers could work in and out of her. Sören groaned at the sloppy wet suctioning sound, and Karen shivered, nipples throbbing. "Oh god that sounds so rude," Karen moaned, loving it.  
  
"So fucking wet." Sören sipped at her. "I love it." He looked up, meeting her eyes. "I love you."  
  
"I love -" Her clit was in his mouth again and Karen couldn't finish the sentence. "Ooohhhh oh god _fuck._ "  
  
Sören sucked on her harder than before, and a few minutes later Karen's climax hit her like a lightning bolt, trembling, fingers and toes curling as the pleasure tingled through her. Sören gave a few slow licks as she contracted, leaving his fingers in her as she squeezed and pulsed around them. Sören sighed and brought his fingers to his mouth to taste her, and Karen groaned at the sight of him licking and sucking her juices off his fingers, getting worked up all over again.  
  
Sören looked up at her. "I need more," he rasped.  
  
"God, yes.."  
  
Sören mashed his lips against her, tongue fucking her clit fast and furious. Karen heard herself make a guttural noise, another orgasm building with how sensitive she was, and Sören seemed to intuitively know it, devouring her with a hunger that almost shocked her. She was right on that edge again, panting, gasping, little high-pitched yelps escaping her as Sören's tongue played. When her clit was between his full lips again Karen started bucking against his face, not able to help it, and Sören encouraged her with "mmmmmm, _mmmmmm_ , mmm-hmmmm," nodding as he sucked at her. Soon she was exploding a second time, and when Sören licked his lips, savoring her, Karen grabbed his head and pushed him against her for another.  
  
She came two more times before the timer rang. He was in the middle of eating her again and Karen reluctantly got down to take out the second set of cookies and put the third set in. When she came back, Sören was stroking himself and she couldn't resist teasing him a little, dropping to her knees beside the couch and licking his cock from head to shaft and back, chasing the precum with her tongue, making a show of streamers between his cock and her tongue.  
  
"Oh god, _elskan._ " Sören shuddered, eyes rolling back.  
  
Karen tugged on the ring in the head of Sören's cock with her teeth, and licked around the site of the piercing then swirled around and around the head, then around the rim of his foreskin. Sören gasped, and again when her hands cupped his balls, rubbing.  
  
"Like that?" she purred.  
  
" _Fuck._ "  
  
Karen smiled and took just the head of Sören's cock into her mouth, kissing it, rubbing her tongue as she sucked on it. Sören grunted and growled, panted, trembling. She loved watching him lose control like this.  
  
So much so that she wasn't ready to let him come yet. She let his cock slip from her mouth, and Sören made a noise of protest, and then a hungry growl as he watched her move so his cock slid between her breasts. "Fuck, that's hot," he whispered.  
  
Karen liked the steel-wrapped-in-silk rubbing between her breasts, and she liked the reaction from him even more. Once she had been so insecure about her body, and she still occasionally harbored anxieties but right now the look in Sören's eyes made her feel like a sex goddess. He gasped and gave another little whimper as she continued to let his cock rub between her breasts, and she played with her nipples as he watched, reveling in the hungry lust on his face.  
  
Then she began rubbing the head of his cock against her nipple, smiling as her nipple rubbed against the sensitive frenulum. She gasped too, twinging and dripping, her cock teasing her nipple just as much as her nipple was teasing his cock, the nipple hardening, swelling, glistening invitingly with his precum. When she guided his cock to the other nipple, rubbing, Sören bit his lip and whined and she gushed, going mad with her own lust for him.  
  
She couldn't take it anymore, and climbed back onto him, settling down on his face once more. She cried out as his tongue played around her clit, fingers finding the spot inside her and rubbing as his tongue teased and teased. When her clit was in his mouth again Karen pulled his curls, growling "don't stop don't stop don't you _fucking_ stop Sören..."  
  
Sören growled back, sucking hard, working his head from side to side as he sucked, face mashed into her. Every time he slurped at her juices Karen thought she was going to climax, closer and closer, and at last she broke, screaming as another orgasm surged through her.  
  
He brought her to another two orgasms with his lips and tongue before the timer rang again. The last batch of cookies went in the oven and Karen climbed on top of Sören, laying in his arms, kissing him, tasting herself on him, grinding against him, his cock teasing her clit, their nipples rubbing together.  
  
"God, I want you," Sören whispered, kissing her neck, her shoulder, licking, nibbling.  
  
Karen reached down to touch herself, and after a few strokes she brought her fingers to Sören's lips. Watching those full lips wrap around her fingers, sucking off the juices, made her twinge and drip again. She also wondered what he'd look like with a cock in his mouth, and that made her throb even more, the delicious image of Sören on his knees sucking another man's cock while she watched burning in her mind...  
  
Karen leaned over Sören and he lapped and suckled one nipple, then the other, going back and forth between them. Tongue swirling around and around the aerole before fluttering over the aching peak, lips tugging hard. Karen began touching herself again and a moment later Sören's hand was on hers, and then he gently guided her hand away and it was his hand stroking her, finding that magic button right away and rubbing it in circles. Karen moaned, rocking against his hand. Then Sören's thumb was on her clit and he pushed his index and middle and ring fingers inside her, and Karen cried out, fucking herself on his fingers as Sören suckled her nipples harder.  
  
He nibbled her nipples, tugged with his teeth, hunger in his eyes, fingers working inside her harder, faster. His eyes locked with hers as he withdrew his hand and rubbed her nipples with his slick fingers, coating them with her juices. Then his tongue was on her nipples again, licking them clean, as his fingers went back inside her.  
  
Again and again he anointed her nipples, fingers slamming in and out of her, making filthy delicious slurping noises. His fingers got so wet with her juices that her nipples dripped with them, Sören's tongue lashing furiously, suckling hard, needy. It wasn't long before Karen, bucking on his hand, felt herself about to come again, and Sören knew it. Their eyes met and Sören husked, "Come for me, _elskan_ ," before his fingers rubbed inside her even harder, tugging a nipple with his teeth.  
  
Karen screamed as an intense orgasm spun through her, the contractions especially powerful, and she watched as her juices splashed Sören's face and throat and chest. Sören lapped the flowing stream like he was drinking at a fountain, and when she stopped squirting he licked his lips and groaned.  
  
It was just in time to take the last batch of cookies out of the oven, and Karen breathed a little sigh of relief as she turned the oven off. When Karen came back over to the couch, Sören was laughing, and Karen saw him looking down at his chest.  
  
"I love your juices on me, _elskan._ " Sören smiled at her.  
  
Karen couldn't take it anymore. She pulled him off the couch and marched him upstairs, swatting his ass on the way up. When they reached her room, Sören pulled Karen into his arms, kissing her deeply, and walked her into her room, continuing to kiss her, running his hands over her curves.  
  
Karen shoved him onto the bed, making Sören laugh again, and she climbed over him, kissing him back. Laughter became moans, and Sören sighed and trembled when he felt Karen's hands playing over him, caressing him, love in her touch.  
  
"So you like my juices on you," Karen husked.  
  
Sören nodded. "I don't like it, I love it. A lot."  
  
Karen straddled Sören's shoulders again, and she knew he was expecting her to sit on his face once more, but she backed up slightly and began to rub herself against him. She slid over the length of his body a bit at a time, slicking one shoulder and arm down and back up, then moving across to the other, then she rubbed herself up and down his torso, slicking his chest and stomach. She came up and guided her clit to a nipple, rubbing, teasing them both, reveling in the cry Sören gave as her swollen clit and his swollen nipple played together. Then she moved over to the other one, rubbing, rubbing. She groaned and Sören growled, cupping her breasts in his hands, playing with her nipples.  
  
As she began to rub against one of Sören's hips, Sören sighed and said, "It feels like you're marking your territory."  
  
"I am." Karen's nails slowly, lightly raked down his glistening chest. "You belong to me now." She thought of the Tarot reading, how much Sören still hurt from the broken engagement, the broken _life_ he'd built with someone he loved so deeply. "And I'll never let anyone hurt you again."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " Sören's eyes were too bright. His hand slid up from her breast to touch her face. She took his hand and kissed it.  
  
Then she rubbed against him harder. She needed to feel him inside her, soon, but she wanted to tease him just a little more. "You're mine." She reached down to play with his hard, dripping cock. "Mine to use however I like, and you'll love it like the little fuckslut you are, won't you?"  
  
"Oh _god._ " Sören gave a little whine, bucking against her hand. "Karen..." Sören shuddered and bit his lip.  
  
That settled the question of whether or not Anthony was dominant - Sören definitely had a submissive streak. Karen kept a hand on Sören's cock, while her other hand rubbed his nipples, pulled on the nipple rings. "Mine."  
  
"Oh, fuck."  
  
Karen rubbed against one thigh, then the other, then down his calf and up the other. She ground herself against his thigh again, and then hovered over his cock, sliding against it, letting it tease her clit. She teased and teased until Sören gasped, "Please."  
  
Karen sank down on his cock, crying out when she felt the length and fullness of him all the way inside her. Then she began to bounce on him, the ring in his cock delicious on her G-spot, the texture of his cock teasing her walls. The slurping sound of her wetness got louder, competing with their cries. Karen played with Sören's nipples as she rode him, delighting in how sensitive they were, how pretty they were pierced, swollen, glistening with her juices. Sören played with Karen's nipples too, and when she leaned down to kiss him, she let her nipples rub against his. Sören groaned and thrust into her harder, a hand sliding between them, fingers pleasuring her clit. He rubbed her harder when she rose back up, riding him fiercely, breasts bouncing. Sören's free hand reached up to her breasts, playing with them. "Fuck, you're so fucking hot," Sören panted.  
  
Karen rocked against him harder, feeling her orgasm build and build, spiraling higher and tighter until she was almost sobbing, shaking, panting, driven mad with frenzied pleasure and lust. Sören's hand pawed her furiously and the contractions started, taking her breath away as she shattered. Sören got a look of surprised delight just before he came, gasping, letting out a long moan as he spent into the walls that were clenching him and clenching him. "Oh god. Karen. _Karen._ Karen, _elskan_ , my love..."  
  
"Oh, Sören." Karen gasped too and just laughed from the sheer euphoria of her orgasm, contractions so strong they almost hurt. "Oh god. Oh _god._ "  
  
She came down to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her tenderly, rocking her as they kissed. Their hearts beat in the same rhythm and they looked into each other's eyes, and Sören stroked her face, her hair, the look of love in his brown eyes bringing tears to her own. She could feel how fiercely he loved her, how deep his capacity for love - and capacity for hurt - and she vowed to herself to protect his precious, sensitive heart...  
  
 _...to keep the fire._  
  
They kissed again, and again. As Sören began kissing her neck, Karen felt herself twinging, wanting to go another round, and she smiled at the feel of him hardening up inside her.  
  
"What does my _elskan_ want?" Sören husked, nibbling her neck.  
  
"You," Karen said, and rose once more, like a phoenix in his flames, and began to ride again. Feeling like she was flying, their passion taking her to dizzying heights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read [_After the Rain_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355828), you know who the shopkeeper of Curious Goods is.


	10. Let Your Heart Be Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the final chapter but the story got a bit carried away and I've had to split it into two chapters for reasons of length. Whoopsidoodle!
> 
> Next chapter: The Porn That Was Promised.

There were only a few moments when Sören could remember being more anxious than he was on Christmas Eve as he stood outside the door to Nicholas's flat after he'd gotten off work and gone home to change. He was wearing a dark grey suit complete with a waistcoat, a white dress shirt, and a black tie. His curls hung loose but he'd put a little gel in them. For the first time since the breakup he wished he had kept the Rolex that Anthony had given him, which would go nicely with his suit.  
  
Sören was still wearing his Doc Martens ankle-high boots. They could pry those from his cold, dead body.  
  
Nicholas answered the door and Sören gasped.  
  
Sören's reaction was more shock than surprise, however. He knew Nicholas would be dressing up to go to the ballet, having gone on a tirade about young people wearing jeans to the Royal Opera House (which Sören found adorable and hilarious). It was one thing to know Nicholas would be dressing up and another thing to see him in black tails, black waistcoat, black tie, charcoal silk scarf, white dress shirt, a red rose through his buttonhole.  
  
For a full moment Sören and Nicholas just stood there, looking at each other. Nicholas seemed just as stunned to see Sören wearing a proper suit and tie.  
  
 _If you looked up "silver fox" in a dictionary, you would see a picture of this guy._ Sören had to close his mouth, and his face burned, realizing he'd been drooling a little, and not just from the delicious smells of whatever Nicholas was cooking for their Christmas dinner.  
  
"Er," Sören said.  
  
"Er," Nicholas replied.  
  
 _And if you think he looks hot dressed up like this, imagine what he looks like_ out _of that suit. Especially if he's got silver man fur all over his body like those whiskers..._  
  
Sören felt a frisson down his spine. He definitely did _not_ want to be lusting after Nicholas this way, not wanting to make things awkward with Karen and Geir that he had the hots for their "dad". And yet he couldn't shake the mental image of Nicholas undressing out of that suit, Sören unbuttoning his dress shirt button by button, exposing silver-grey chest hair over a trim, fit body, trembling to Sören's touch as he ran his fingers through the fur...  
  
 _Cut that shit out right now,_ Sören told himself.  
  
Sören licked his lips, as much from anxiety as from desire. He _wanted_ , but this was bad. For a lot of reasons.  
  
Nicholas cleared his throat. "My apologies, do come in." He gestured for Sören to step inside. When Sören walked in, Nicholas gently closed the door behind him and said, "Karen is showering. May I offer you refreshment? Coffee... tea..."  
  
"No, that's all right." Sören reached for the small gift-wrapped package in his coat pocket, heart racing.  
  
"You look... very nice," Nicholas said, glancing up and down. "Quite dapper."  
  
Sören's face burned hotter. _He's just saying that to be nice. He's not checking you out or anything. He's probably not even gay.  
  
Oh come on, how many straight dudes do you know go to ballet of their own accord?  
  
Mikhail Baryshnikov got plenty of pussy._  
  
Sören fought the reflex to facepalm. _Now I'm arguing with myself. Great._ "You look h- nice, too," Sören said. _Hot_ was the word he almost used. He needed a distraction, now. _Just do it, even if he thinks it's not good enough._ "Nick, I have something for you."  
  
"Oh?" Nicholas blinked. "I thought we were exchanging gifts later this evening, after the performance..."  
  
"Well, what I have for you is just..." Sören thrust the package at him. "Take it." Sören shoved away the mental image of himself on all fours, hole primed and ready for Nicholas's hard cock, saying _take it._  
  
Nicholas grabbed the package, and carefully began to unwrap it, Sören's heart pounding louder. Nicholas saw there was a flat, square box, and he looked at Sören again with something like disbelief and then took the lid off the box. He gasped when he pulled out the pocket watch.  
  
"Sören."  
  
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "Do you like it?"  
  
"Sören, I..." Nicholas opened the pocket watch and saw the _vegvísir_ etched into the silver. He examined the fob.  
  
"The fob is a piece of lava from Eyjafjallajökull, and that symbol is a -"  
  
"A _vegvísir_ ," Nicholas said. "A runic compass, for the bearer to find their way even when the way is not known."  
  
"You... you've heard of it."  
  
"As you know, I teach the antiquity of the Greek and Roman worlds, but I am also fascinated by other ancient cultures... like the Old Norse. I've read your Eddas and Sagas, studied a bit of Viking history, and that of medieval Scandinavia. Which includes things like folklore."  
  
Sören was impressed. "Do you know about the _huldufólk_ too, then?"  
  
"They were the inspiration for Tolkien's Elves, so I've heard."  
  
"Jæja, supposedly I've got one of the _huldufólk_ in my family tree." Sören chuckled, feeling self-conscious at mentioning it. "Anyway... you, ah... is it OK?"  
  
"Sören, it's a lot better than OK." Nicholas looked like he was in awe. "It's gorgeous. It's _unique._ You must have paid a tidy sum for it. And it's a piece of your home country, I shall always think of you when I wear it."  
  
"I found it completely by chance," Sören said. "Feels almost like I was meant to find it, as ridiculous as that sounds. According to the shopkeeper where I found it, this belonged to some Icelandic guy's grandfather, he was pawning it for a trip to Australia." Sören vaguely remembered his mother's brother Böðvar, who had left for Australia when he was five. His great-grandfather Sören, who he was named for and had only the dimmest memory of, had a pocket watch from his own grandfather... but that seemed like an awfully big coincidence. _That can't be Sören's watch, can it?_  
  
"Well..." Nicholas ran his finger over the _vegvísir_ again. "Truth be told, I like this even better than the watch it is replacing. It feels like it has more history to it. More life. I'm sure there's a story behind the _vegvísir_ etching and the lava stone fob, not that I expect we'll ever know what it is." Then Nicholas scowled, which Sören thought was devastatingly handsome. "I feel like a pauper in comparison with what I bought for you."  
  
"Oh, Nick, you didn't have to get me anything."  
  
"Yes, I most certainly did. You're family now."  
  
"Well, I'm easy to please." _I'd love it if you pleased me._ "I'm sure whatever you got me is fine."  
  
Nicholas snorted. "I wouldn't be so sure of that -"  
  
"Just let me see the damn present, then." Sören narrowed his eyes. "Never mind waiting till later."  
  
"All right."  
  
Sören watched Nicholas head for the small Christmas tree on top of the woodstove, decorated with crystal icicles, silver and gold glass balls, and warm gold-white fairy lights. There was an eight-pointed star on top, four large arms with four smaller arms, faceted glass crystal that sparkled in the light and entranced Sören enough that he jumped a little when Nicholas came back with a long, flat box, wrapped in silver-and-gold paper and a silver-and-gold ribbon that wound around the box in four directions and had a curly bow on top.  
  
"Nice wrapping job," Sören said, admiring it.  
  
"I wrapped it myself," Nicholas said, smiling proudly. He opened the drawer in the kitchen counter but before he could hand Sören a scissor, Sören tore into it like a big kid, ripping the paper off so it fell in shreds on the kitchen floor. Nicholas looked somewhat scandalized, but he stood and watched.  
  
There was a plain white box. "A box. You shouldn't have," Sören teased.  
  
Nicholas glared. "As you know, I wouldn't just get someone a box with nothing in it. Open it up."  
  
"Prrr-rowww!" Tobias trotted out and began batting the wrapping paper around the kitchen floor.  
  
"Tobias... I have to clean that up..." Nicholas said.  
  
Sören watched with amusement and picked up the wrapping paper Tobias wasn't immediately playing with, tossing it in the wastebasket; Nicholas cringed at his handiwork going into the trash so quickly. Then Tobias absconded with the bow in his mouth, running off, and Sören picked up the last piece of wrapping paper, chuckling at the cat with his prize. Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and Sören reached out to pat his arm, laughing, and quickly withdrew his hand, feeling himself break out in gooseflesh at touching Nicholas, even just on the arm.  
  
Sören opened the box and gasped with delight at what was inside. There was a fringed fleece scarf, with a print of Pusheen all over it. There was also a matching microplush blanket with the same Pusheen print, large enough for Sören to wrap himself in like a burrito.  
  
"See?" Nicholas said. "I feel like that was inadequate compared to -"  
  
"Shut up," Sören said, not unkindly. "No, this is..." He felt touched, seeing that Nicholas had observed his love of Pusheen. "This is from the heart. That's what counts. That's what makes it special."  
  
"I remembered you mentioning your ex had gotten you some things when you lost a patient and I thought, well... it might be comforting." Nicholas's voice was soft.  
  
That Nicholas had wanted to get something to soothe and comfort him touched Sören even more. "I love it. Thank you."  
  
"You're sure it's fine -?"  
  
Sören marched over to him and put his arms around the older man. After a moment the hug was returned, Nicholas's arms encircling him, and the feel of Nicholas's arms holding him and the feel of Nicholas's body against him sent a shiver through Sören. And when their eyes met and Nicholas smiled, cheeks flushed pink, another frisson went down Sören's spine, stirring his cock. For a brief, wild instant Sören got the urge to take Nicholas's face between his hands and kiss him. To march him over to the kitchen table, push him down and ride him...  
  
 _What the fuck, you just met this guy. He probably isn't gay, and even if he is, he probably thinks you're too young for him, or too different for him._  
  
Karen came out in a bathrobe with her hair in a towel to find them hugging. "Awwwwwwwwww," she said.  
  
Sören and Nicholas pulled back; Sören's face was even more on fire and Nicholas was also pink, grinning in a dorky way that Sören found adorable.  
  
"Look what Nick gave me," Sören said, pulling the Pusheen blanket out of the box and draping it around himself. Then he put the blanket back in the box and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "Looks good for the Royal Opera House, no?"  
  
" _You are not wearing that to the ballet,_ " Nicholas growled.  
  
Sören gigglesnorted - he hadn't been serious, and the fact that Nicholas thought he was being serious and was so _vehement_ amused him greatly. And he did love it so when Nicholas glared, it was incredibly sexy. "Why not?" Sören did a twirl with the Pusheen scarf around his neck.  
  
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and gave Karen a pained look, who just giggled. "Karen, some help, please."  
  
"Here, silly." Karen unwrapped the scarf from Sören's neck and put it back in the box. "Come help me get dressed." Karen winked at him.  
  
Karen led Sören to the guest bedroom of Nicholas's flat. Sören's eyes were drawn to a deep blue silky slip dress, which he pulled off the bed and held up to Karen's body. "I like this."  
  
"OK." Karen took off the bathrobe, letting it fall to the bed.  
  
Sören couldn't resist, coming closer to run his hands over Karen's naked curves, cock stirring again at the sight of her. "I like this even more."  
  
"I am not going naked to the ballet, Sören Sigurðsson."  
  
"Hi Not Going Naked To The Ballet -"  
  
Karen pulled out the tie of her bathrobe and slapped Sören with it, and they both giggled. Then Karen grabbed his nose and tweaked it.  
  
Sören sat on the bed and watched as Karen put the dress on. "So fancy," he said. "You look like a princess."  
  
Karen threw her head back and laughed. "You're so sweet, Sören." She glanced over at him and gave him a sultry, appreciative look. "You clean up nicely. Very much a gentleman."  
  
"Oh, I'm not sure about the gentleman part." Sören rubbed his beard, bit his lower lip and spoke honestly. "I'd like to tear that silk dress off of you."  
  
Karen turned pink and grinned. "Barbarian."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
Once Karen's dress was on, she reached for her hairbrush and headed to the bathroom to fix her hair. Sören followed her in and in the bathroom mirror they watched themselves as Sören wrapped an arm around her and his free hand took the hairbrush; he began to brush her hair, nuzzling and kissing her neck as he did. Karen's breath hitched and she melted into his touch, moaning as the hand on her body slid up and down over the dress, thumb teasing a nipple through the silk before running down to rub her stomach in slow, lazy circles.  
  
"You have such beautiful hair," Sören whispered as he continued to brush her hair. "I could play with your hair for hours." He kissed the sweet spot where the neck and shoulder met, making Karen moan again.  
  
A few brush strokes later, Karen took the brush from Sören and gave him a mock stern look. "If I let you keep doing that, we'll never leave." She kissed him.  
  
Sören stepped back and watched as Karen put her silver-blonde hair in a chignon. Then she walked back out to the guestroom and slipped on silver sandals and added a few silver bangles to her arms.  
  
"I have something for you," Sören said. He had been debating whether to give it before the performance or wait till the appointed time of gift-giving when they were all present, but now seemed to be more appropriate.  
  
Karen waited as Sören produced another small package from his coat pocket. It was a small square box, and Karen tore the paper off, her exuberance pleasing to Sören. She opened the lid of the box and inside she found two things. The first was a necklace of twelve conch seashells. Between the seashells were nuggets of light blue Dominican larimar, and rainbow moonstone, and the rest of the necklace was a chain of delicate silver links with smaller larimar and moonstone beads.  
  
"Sören, that's _exquisite_ ," Karen said.  
  
Sören smiled, feeling strangely shy. "I found it in, ah, Theresa's Treasures. It reminded me of you." What Sören didn't tell her was when he picked up the necklace he had a mental image of himself making it, which didn't make any sense because he didn't make jewelry - though when he was with Anthony he and Anthony both had strange dreams of themselves in other bodies, and Sören made jewelry and glass art and was a smith in some of those dreams. But this wasn't a "memory of back then", as they'd called it - the vision-flash had been of himself in this body making the necklace, but felt like it was happening somewhere else, like another world. It was crazy, and had shaken Sören enough that he almost ran out of the shop. But he felt compelled to buy the necklace, along with the pocket watch, and the other item in the box... which was another thing he'd "seen" himself making. "I know you don't like being called Bella Swan but you're my beautiful swan maiden."  
  
Karen grabbed Sören and kissed him passionately, hard enough to take his breath away. Sören moaned as his cock leapt to attention, twinging as Karen's hands ran over him, their tongues playing.  
  
"Fuck," Sören panted and kissed her back.  
  
When they pulled apart, they were both breathing hard... and Karen was choked up, holding the turtle in her hand. "Sören. That's... that's so beautiful." Then she took a closer look at the necklace. "I love it." Her eyes met Sören's. "Will you put it on me?"  
  
Karen's dress was dark blue and the necklace of shells, larimar and moonstone went with it nicely, the light and shadows of the sea. Karen looked like a sea goddess. Karen broke into gooseflesh at Sören's touch on her neck as he hooked the necklace together, and then she was in his arms again and they stole another kiss.  
  
Sören had hesitated about the other "gift", but he was horny enough now that he found his nerve. "There's something else."  
  
"Oh Sören." Karen gave him a look. "I hope you didn't go broke -"  
  
"This one is, ah. Different." Sören laughed and reached into his other pocket. He pulled out the buttplug he'd worn on his date with Geir, and handed the little remote control to Karen; he hadn't used the remote on his date with Geir. The last (and only) person to use the remote had been Anthony.  
  
Karen looked at the remote and then at the plug in Sören's hand and then at Sören. "It's a vibrator?"  
  
Sören nodded. He dropped trou and turned around, and Karen giggled.  
  
"I'm all lubed up," Sören said, shaking his ass at her.  
  
"Hi All Lubed Up. I'm Karen -"  
  
Sören _growled_ , and Karen laughed harder, and Sören laughed too. Then Karen playfully slapped Sören's ass and took a deep breath. "Tell me if I hurt you -"  
  
"Karen, just put it in. It's been up there before."  
  
Sören moaned as he felt the plug push into him. Karen's breath hitched at the sight of the plug in Sören's ass. "That's fucking _hot_ ," she whispered.  
  
"If you think that's hot, you should see an actual cock up there sometime," Sören said before he could stop himself.  
  
Now it was Karen's turn to growl. She switched the vibrator onto its lowest setting, and it began to purr inside of Sören. Sören moaned again and Karen did too. "Wow," Karen said.  
  
Sören pulled his underwear and trousers back up.  
  
"I can't believe you're going to wear that to the Royal Opera House," Karen said.  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm pretty kinky."  
  
"Hi Pretty Kinky -"  
  
Sören grabbed Karen and pushed her against the wall, kissing her hard. Karen turned up the vibe and Sören groaned, nipping her lower lip. Karen kissed him back and her hands cupped and rubbed his ass.  
  
Then Karen patted him and turned off the vibe. Sören pouted and Karen said, "Don't worry... I'll turn it on again once we get there." She giggled, turning pink. "When there's more background noise and Nicholas can't hear it."  
  
Sören threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, he'd be scandalized, I'm sure." Though he wondered if Nicholas would be turned on by it, and he entertained the brief fantasy of Nicholas being the one to control the plug inside him, later taking the plug out to put his cock inside the teased, sensitized, ready-and-aching hole...  
  
Karen lined her eyes with kohl and added a little bit of tinted lip gloss, which enhanced her beauty rather than being too made up for Sören's taste. He kissed her cheek and they came out to the kitchen-and-living-area together arm in arm.  
  
"Karen, you look lovely," Nicholas said, taking her hand and kissing it.  
  
"Thank you, Dad. You look terrific." Karen did a little twirl.  
  
"That's a beautiful necklace," Nicholas said.  
  
"That was my Christmas gift from Sören."  
  
"Oh, my." Nicholas looked at Sören with surprise. "You have very good taste, sir."  
  
"And he tastes good," Karen added, and clapped her hand over her mouth.  
  
Nicholas turned pink. "Er." He quickly looked away, and pulled out his pocket watch to look at the time. "Shall we?"  
  
"Let's." Karen put her sandals in her purse, changing into footwear more appropriate for the wintry walk, and threw an elegant blue cashmere shawl over her shoulders for the cold, then she took Nicholas's hand in one hand and Sören's in the other, and they were off.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Just before they got to the Royal Opera House, Karen changed out her shoes to put the sandals back on, making Sören giggle.  
  
Sören stopped laughing once they got inside and Nicholas led them to the bar. He already felt like he was doing very bad drag wearing a suit and tie - the memories of how he'd gotten the getup in the first place didn't help, making him reflexively touch his hair, hoping he wouldn't run into Trisha and Vincente here - and now he felt like he was an alien arriving on another planet, like he had stepped on a world where he didn't quite belong, surrounded by men and women in their best finery and seeming so _comfortable_ with it. Sören worked in scrubs, and he liked to relax on his time off from work, he was a T-shirt and jeans guy most of the time. He liked a suit on other people - Anthony, and now Nicholas - but he wasn't at home in one. And even though he'd lived in a posh riverfront flat with Anthony for the better part of two years, money and status was still hard for him to be around.  
  
Nicholas ordered a cynar and soda for himself, and white port with tonic for Karen. "What will you have, Sören?" Nicholas asked.  
  
"Uh." Sören felt so painfully basic with his own alcohol preferences. "Guinness, I guess."  
  
Nicholas raised an eyebrow but politely ordered a Guinness for Sören, who accepted the frosty beer with a mumbled thanks and sipped, continuing to self-consciously eye the throng of fabulous people, feeling out of place.  
  
Karen, seeming to sense Sören's discomfort, discretely turned on the vibe, to its lowest setting. Sören's breath hitched as the buttplug began to purr inside him. Karen gave him a little smirk as she raised the glass to her lips.  
  
Sören's discomfort with the extravagance of this world was momentarily forgotten as the vibe teased him, and it returned as the announcement sounded that it was ten minutes to curtain and they made their way into the auditorium. The auditorium was breathtaking, with its cream-and-gold high domed ceiling, the plush red chairs in their curved rows, the velvet curtains across the stage. Their seats were in the middle of the Grand Tier, and Karen had Sören sit between her and Nicholas. As lovely as the auditorium was, and impressed as Sören was with the perfect seating, he felt even more out of place as he watched the audience pour in with their finery - their flaunting of wealth, of privilege. Sören felt a sharp, pounding, dizzying surge of panic that gave him the urge to bolt outside into the winter night.  
  
 _I don't belong here._  
  
Karen took a set of opera glasses out of her purse. She handed them to Sören so he could admire them, the inlay of mother of pearl, gold filigree around the lenses. "Wow, those are beautiful," Sören said.  
  
"They belonged to my grandmother," Nicholas said. "I gave them to Karen the first time we attended the ballet together."  
  
"They are a treasure," Karen said. "Just like you." She reached across Sören to pat Nicholas's hand, who patted her back, chuckling indulgently.  
  
As much as it touched Sören that Nicholas had been so generous - it made Sören like him even more - Sören felt even more nervous now, with such a casual display of wealth. He leaned back against the seat, and saw he was shaking a little.  
  
Nicholas noticed. "Nervous?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"Geir will do fine," Nicholas said. "As you know, he's a regular in the orchestra. Well, I suppose you'll get plenty of chances to see him play the flute now."  
  
Sören's mind immediately went into the gutter - _yes, I will indeed get to see him "play the flute", a lot_ \- but even that didn't make a dent in his anxiety. However, Sören found it interesting that Nicholas assumed his anxiety was over Geir, and not over the mere concept of being here, out of place in this opulence, as if Nicholas didn't think he was a sore thumb, or at least was too polite to say so.  
  
"Relax," Karen whispered, and the bassoon started the performance. As the orchestra swelled to a start, Karen turned the vibe to its next highest setting, and put a hand on his knee.  
  
Sören let himself get lost in the performance, which was easy enough to do. Geir's flute playing was enchanting, and the dancers seemed to almost fly, as if his flute were magic. Sören truly appreciated all of this as _art_ , once again wanting to capture Geir with a painting, paying tribute to the beauty of his flute playing, his expression, the way he became one with the music - seeming to become one with music itself, as if the universe was a song and he was performing it with his flute.  
  
Sören felt too hot, and he knew it wasn't just the suit, or the lights, or the proximity of Karen and Nicholas, or the alcohol he'd had, or the vibe pulsing inside him. His hands and feet were tingling, he felt something like wheels spinning in his brain, sparks crackling. Geir was inspiring him, in a way he had not been consumed in years, not since he and Anthony broke up and he'd painted his last works out of raw grief, not since he and Anthony were together and he'd painted from a place of passion and joy. Geir's flute seemed to relight a fire inside him. Geir was his handsome prince, and the world was magical again with his presence.  
  
"Isn't he magnificent?" Karen whispered to Sören.  
  
Sören could only nod, mouth slightly open, not able to make words. Even the word "magnificent" didn't seem adequate for the way Geir played on stage.  
  
Karen's hand slid from Sören's knee up his thigh, and she turned the vibe up higher, smirking.  
  
Sören was aching to have a real cock inside him now. He was aching for Geir - it probably wasn't normal to get turned on like this by classical music, Sören thought, but he was, sacred and profane all at once. He also wanted Karen.  
  
Sören wondered what it would be like to have Geir and Karen at the same time. He knew Geir was completely gay, and didn't know if it would be awkward for them to share Sören even if they weren't doing anything with each other. But the thought of being theirs for the night... Sören shivered.  
  
He glanced over at Nicholas and that made his longing even worse. Nicholas was someone he'd rather enjoy one-on-one - except maybe if he and Anthony had still been together, and Anthony had been amenable to sharing, since Sören knew Anthony had a thing for silver foxes like he did. Sören felt the bitter ache of something he could not have, but it didn't stop him from looking at Nicholas either, and Nicholas seemed to sense Sören was looking at him and smiled. The warmth in his dark eyes, like melted chocolate, gave Sören the urge to kiss him, to ride his lap right there in the auditorium. But he didn't. Though the fantasy of riding Nicholas in public just made his need all the more intense.  
  
When the show was finally over, Sören found himself rising to his feet with applause, and some followed his lead, and soon the entire auditorium was in a standing ovation. Sören whistled, even with the dirty look Nicholas gave him - he did love that sexy glare, giving Nicholas a cheeky grin in response. Nicholas's eyes twinkled and his lips quirked as he clapped politely.  
  
Sören was also choked up, aching with the beauty of the dancing, dancers continuing to prance and fly, wild and free, in his imagination as they left the auditorium and headed to the champagne bar of the Paul Hamlyn Hall, where they were meeting Geir. When he finally saw Geir approach, looking dapper in his tuxedo, the tears he'd been holding back spilled freely, pulling Geir into a tight embrace, shivering at the strength he could feel in Geir's body, the raw, primal power of him. He kissed both Geir's cheeks, and Geir kissed his in return. When Geir noticed Sören's cheeks were wet, he took Sören's face in his hands, his own eyes too bright.  
  
"Awww," Geir said. "Are you OK?"  
  
Sören nodded through his tears. He felt like his heart was breaking, in a good way. "You were..." He struggled to find words. "You were art."  
  
"That, from you, sir, is a very high compliment indeed." Geir bowed with a dramatic flourish.  
  
"I agree with Sören," Nicholas said. "That was art. Thank you for sharing your gift with us."  
  
Geir pulled Nicholas into the hug with Sören, and Karen too.  
  
On the walk back to Nicholas's flat they were silent, as if in awe of the shared experience. Geir also felt distant, as if a part of him were still playing - Sören recognized that feeling when he was fresh out of an intense painting session and hadn't fully grounded yet, part of him still immersed in the vision.  
  
How alike they were, even as their chosen mediums were different. Kindred spirits.  
  
It made Sören feel closer to Geir, reaching out to put an arm around him. Geir kissed Sören's cheek, and Sören saw Geir start to come back to himself, desire in Geirs eyes.  
  
Sören was hoping to get a very special Christmas gift later.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Since Sören was working on Christmas Day, Nicholas had made the grand feast for Christmas Eve. It was a delicate balance to find something that would be light enough with Geir's diet yet still filling and nourishing, but Nicholas had made foie gras with figs and onion confit - the traditional Christmas goose, given a French twist - with homemade brioche to spread it on, and there were cubes of goat cheese and a warm salad of cabbage, fennel and pear, sprinkled with walnuts and Brie, to go along with it. Nicholas poured out chardonnay and raised his glass.  
  
"To family," he said. "Happy Christmas."  
  
" _Skál_ ," Sören toasted, clinking glasses with Nicholas, Karen, and Geir. " _Gleðileg jól._ "  
  
Sören once again felt wildly out of his element, eating foie gras and drinking chardonnay in a suit and tie alongside Nicholas in his tails and Karen in her fancy silk dress. This life was very alien to him - Anthony came from money and he drove a nice car, had expensive taste, but it had been his friends who'd been more of the flaunting-wealth type, whereas Anthony was considerably more down-to-earth in private with just the two of them, and Anthony's parents had never fed him caviar or foie gras. Sören knew his history with Anthony's friends - and what he now recognized as their contribution to things going pear-shaped - was part of his discomfort with this life, but some of it was just Sören's background itself. He was a country boy from Akureyri. He'd grown up in poverty because of his alcoholic guardians, but even if his mamma had lived his life wouldn't have been particularly extravagant or privileged. Sören felt rich when he was out in the beauty of nature, breathing fresh air, enjoying the gifts of the world.  
  
And yet, as uncomfortable as he was, Nicholas was sharing this with him, ungrudgingly, just as Anthony had freely, kindly spoiled him with gifts and trips and they had slept in silk sheets and Anthony thought nothing was too good for his husband-to-be. This was what Nicholas did for people he considered family, and it took off some of the sting of awkwardness.  
  
Sören realized then, too, as he sipped his chardonnay that at least some of his awkwardness was because of his attraction to Nicholas, growing stronger all the time - he could cook delicious food, he looked delicious in his tails - and just like Anthony's friends had driven a wedge between them towards the end, making Sören withdraw into himself, Sören worried that again the class divide would cause problems. _He's out of my league,_ Sören thought to himself, trying not to ogle Nicholas and failing. _We don't want to go down this road again. We already did with Anthony, and with Van Apollyon._  
  
Karen's foot slid up Sören's calf under the table, and she turned the vibe back on its lowest setting.  
  
For dessert Nicholas had made a classic French lemon tart, and Karen had brought over the cookies she and Sören made. Nicholas's reaction to the Irn Bru macarons was predictable and hilarious - he pinched his nose with a pained look on his face.  
  
"My _grand-mère_ would be turning in her grave right now," Nicholas said with a dramatic eyeroll.  
  
Then Tobias hopped onto the table with a "Prrp?" and made a beeline for the Irn Bru macarons.  
  
" _Tobias!_ " Nicholas wagged his finger. " _Dégage!_ "  
  
Tobias gave Nicholas an innocent look, came over to give him a headbutt as if that made being up on the table OK, and then walked back over to the Irn Bru macarons, sniffing. Nicholas picked the cat up, who gave a pitiful little meow, and put him down on the floor.  
  
" _Douleur dans le cul,_ " Nicholas said, glaring at the cat.  
  
Tobias mewed at Sören, trying to sound like a baby kitten, and Sören laughed. "No, Toby. No cookies for you."  
  
"His name is Tobias," Nicholas said with an eyeroll. "As you know."  
  
Sören reached down and skritched him. "Poor Toby."  
  
Nicholas glared and Sören just grinned, sipping his wine.  
  
Then Nicholas sampled each of the different kinds of Icelandic Christmas cookies. "Sören, did you make these?"  
  
"Karen helped but já, I used to make these every year for..." Sören's voice trailed off before he could finish with _Anthony and his family._  
  
"These biscuits are phenomenal," Nicholas said, meeting his eyes. "My compliments."  
  
Sören felt a warm glow of pride, that someone whose cooking and baking skills were far superior to his, was complimenting his cookies. "I'm glad you like them." He patted Karen. "I can't take all the credit, of course. Karen worked her special, ah... magic."

"Have an Irn Bru macaron, Dad," Karen said, gesturing to the plate of bright orange macarons with blue filling.

" _Shan't_." Nicholas glared.

"All the more for me." Sören shoved a macaron in his mouth. "These are good, Karen," he said with his mouth full, knowing the English found that rude and taking amusement in Nicholas's furrowed brow, as Karen snickered.  
  
Sören insisted on helping with the dishes, and Nicholas insisted in turn to load the dishwasher. The sight of them working together in their Royal Opera House best was comical, and Sören and Nicholas both laughed about it.  
  
When the dishwasher was running, Sören and Nicholas joined Karen and Geir in the living room with cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Karen had gotten out what presents remained under the Christmas tree.  
  
Nicholas's present from Geir was a vinyl recording of Stravinksy's _The Firebird_ by the London Symphony Orchestra; Nicholas's present from Karen had been his ticket to see _The Nutcracker_ but Karen still got him a little snowglobe of Clara and the Nutcracker Prince watching the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, which played the song with music box bells when it was wound up.  
  
"I know it's kitschy," Karen said, "but -"  
  
"No, my dear. It shall always remind me of this Christmas and Geir's performance in the orchestra," Nicholas said, smiling fondly.  
  
From Nicholas, Geir received a new flute case, delicately carved soapstone. And Karen received a pair of hairsticks, made of iridescent blue carnival glass, the tops of the hairsticks set with blue-flash labradorite. "Oh, these are gorgeous," Karen said, tracing her finger over them.  
  
"I thought about giving them to you before the performance," Nicholas said.  
  
"It's all right. I can wear them next time," Karen said.  
  
"Jæja, and I'll wear my scarf." Sören reached for the new Pusheen scarf, wrapping it around his neck for Geir to see, completely deadpan.  
  
Geir doubled over. "You should have worn that." His eyes twinkled. "With jeans."  
  
" _Not with jeans_ ," Nicholas bellowed.

"Next time for sure." Sören grinned at Nicholas's scowl.

"You _shan't_."  
  
Karen gave Sören his gift then, before Nicholas could get more worked up. Sören's eyes teared up at the first edition of _Four Quartets_ by T.S. Eliot, remembering the poetry books Anthony had gotten him that first Christmas, that he'd left behind when he'd walked out that door with as little of Anthony as possible. "Oh, Karen." It wasn't just thoughtful in and of itself, but it felt symbolic of moving forward with Karen.  
  
Karen hugged him tight.  
  
Geir opened his gift from Sören next: a fountain that Sören had found at the antique shop. "To help with keeping your stress levels down," Sören said, but it had felt deeper than that, somehow.  
  
"I love it," Geir said, plugging it in and turning it on to test it out, smiling.  
  
"Listening to your music is like... is like that, with its energy," Sören said, and meant it, even though he felt sheepish saying so.  
  
Geir quietly handed Sören his package. Sören's heart skipped a beat as he opened it: inside was eight-pointed star, set in bronze, with a knotwork design on the spokes that had a Celtic or Norse flair. In the center was a piece of ammolite that flashed between red, orange and green in the light.  
  
"Oh my god." Sören was delighted, slipping the chain over his head; the chain was longer than Geir's, hanging over his heart. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," Geir husked.  
  
"I agree," Karen said, nodding.  
  
"To young love," Nicholas said softly, raising his cup of cocoa. He looked a little sad, _or maybe just tired, since it's getting late,_ Sören thought to himself, but he hoped Nicholas wasn't sad. He liked the older man very much, and he wanted to make Nicholas happy, repay the hospitality and warmth he'd been shown.  
  
He liked teasing Nicholas. He thought Nicholas needed to laugh more.  
  
"It's good that I got something to wear," Sören said, patting his Pusheen scarf and playing with the star pendant. "Now Jólakötturinn won't eat me."  
  
"The Yule Cat," Nicholas said.  
  
Even though Nicholas had mentioned earlier he was at least somewhat familiar with Icelandic folklore, Sören was still tickled that he knew about Jólakötturinn. Karen and Geir, on the other hand, gave them bemused looks.  
  
"He eats you if you don't get at least one new item of clothing for Christmas," Sören explained. "I found out some years ago accessories count as clothing where he's concerned. Which is good. You don't want to get eaten by Jólakötturinn. He belongs to Gryla and Leppaludi, trolls who live in a cave and they eat naughty children."  
  
"Wait, you teach this to kids in Iceland?" Geir asked. "This is for real?"  
  
"We live in the Arctic with volcanoes that can kill us, and really bad Eurovision contestants. Trolls and giant cats hungry for human flesh isn't that scary by comparison," Sören said.  
  
Geir found this hilarious, and Karen giggled too. Even Nicholas chuckled. Sören was pleased with himself.  
  
"So you all got something to wear from me," Sören said. "Now you're safe from Jólakötturinn."  
  
"I still can't believe that's real and you're not taking the piss," Geir said. "Norwegian Christmas is pretty tame by comparison, we just have nisse."  
  
"We have a song," Sören said. He took a deep breath and began to sing:  
  
 _Þið kannist við jólaköttinn  
Sá köttur var gríðarstór  
Fólk vissi ekki hvaðan hann kom  
Eða hvert hann fór  
  
Hann glennti upp glyrnurnar sínar  
Glóandi báðar tvær  
Það var ekki heiglum hent  
Að horfa í þær  
  
Kamparnir beittir sem broddar  
Upp úr bakinu kryppa há  
Og klærnar á loðinni löpp  
Var ljótt að sjá  
  
Því var það að konurnar kepptust  
Við kamba og vefstól og rokk  
Og prjónuðu litfagran lepp  
Eða lítinn sokk..._  
  
Nicholas's attention was rapt, and their eyes met. When Sören was done singing, Nicholas applauded. "You have a very nice voice," Nicholas told him.  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören's face was on fire. He bit his lower lip and said, "So do you."  
  
"You haven't heard me sing," Nicholas said.  
  
"Well, er, your speaking voice is nice." _It's fucking sexy. You could recite a grocery shopping list and make me come in my pants._ Sören held his tongue.  
  
"His singing voice is nice too," Karen said, beaming. "I've gotten the privilege of hearing him sing before -"  
  
"You're too kind," Nicholas said.  
  
"Oh, would you sing for me?" Sören asked. "It would really feel Christmas-y if you sang a Christmas song." He remembered his mamma, always singing; he was drawn to musical people. His heart ached as he remembered Anthony playing the piano for him.  
  
"Oh... all right." Nicholas's flush deepened. He cleared his throat and began to sing in a rich bass-baritone:  
  
 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
Let your heart be light  
From now on our troubles  
Will be out of sight  
  
Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
Make the Yuletide gay_  
  
Sören and Geir looked at each other, trying not to snicker, and failed. Nicholas raised an eyebrow and continued:  
  
 _From now on our troubles  
Will be miles away  
  
Here we are as in olden days  
Happy golden days of yore  
Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us, once more  
  
Through the years we all will be together  
If the fates allow  
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough  
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now_  
  
Despite the hilarity of "make the Yuletide gay", Sören got a little choked up, and he noticed Karen did too. Sören applauded. "That was lovely," Sören said, his voice husky. "Another?"  
  
"One more," Nicholas said. "Then I need to retire for the evening, and so do children who want Father Christmas to visit them tonight."  
  
Sören snorted, and Karen leaned in and whispered: "Nicholas actually is Father Christmas. Saint Nick."  
  
" _I heard that,_ " Nicholas said. He gave a derisive snort. "If I were Father Christmas, truly, most people shan't get any presents this year. Naughty, the lot of them."  
  
"Wearing jeans to the Royal Opera House and everything," Geir teased.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So what do the naughty people get instead of presents?" Sören asked. He crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. Geir turned beetroot and Karen shook with silent laughter.  
  
Nicholas glared. "Have you been naughty?"  
  
Sören's cock stirred. _Yes, Daddy, I've been naughty._  
  
"Naughty seems to be his default state," Geir answered for him, affectionately tousling Sören's curls.  
  
Nicholas cleared his throat. "As you know, you requested a song," Nicholas said, turning pink. "Here it is..."  
  
 _Chestnuts roasting on an open fire  
Jack Frost nipping at your nose  
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir  
And folks dressed up like Eskimos  
  
Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe  
Help to make the season bright  
Tiny tots, with their eyes all aglow  
Will find it hard to sleep tonight_  
  
Karen sang along in her contralto with the rest of the song:  
  
 _They know that Santa's on his way  
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh  
And every mother's child is gonna spy  
To see if reindeer really know how to fly  
  
And so I'm offering this simple phrase  
To kids from one to ninety-two  
Although it's been said many times, many ways  
Merry Christmas to you_  
  
Sören reached for the tissues, feeling ridiculous for getting a little teary. He had to deflect the high emotions with humor, his default coping mechanism. "That was great. Just one question."  
  
"Hm?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Who is Chess and why are his nuts roasting on an open fire?"  
  
Nicholas facepalmed and Karen and Geir roared with laughter. Tobias hopped up on Sören's lap and gave him headbutts as if to say he approved of Sören's joke.  
  
"On that note..." Nicholas glanced at the grandfather clock and then over at them.  
  
"All right. We'll be off," Karen said, yanking Sören to his feet.  
  
More hugs were exchanged. "Good night, kids," Nicholas said.

"Good night, Dad," Karen said.

"Night, Dad. Happy Christmas," Geir said.

"Good night, Daddy," Sören said. His eyes met Nicholas's and Nicholas gave him a small smile, cheeks pink.

Karen and Geir walked Sören over to their flat, Sören's stomach fluttering as he thought of Nicholas singing... Nicholas in those tails... Nicholas out of those tails. Back at the flat, Karen served Auchentoshan whisky as a nightcap - Sören wasn't fond of whisky neat, but he drank his anyway.

He was so horny he was ready to climb the walls.  
  
"So what are we going to do now?" Geir asked.  
  
"Well," Sören said, putting an arm around each of them, "that depends on you. I could go back to my flat and try to get some sleep before the early shift tomorrow, or I could stay here and... not sleep."  
  
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Karen gave him a mock innocent look, and turned up the vibe.  
  
Geir heard it, finally. "What... what's that buzzing sound."

"Bees?" Karen teased.

Geir played along. "OH NO! NOT THE BEES!"  
  
When they calmed down from laughing, Sören grinned. "Remember that plug I had on our date?"  
  
"Oh my god." Geir's face lit up and he laughed, delighted. "Wow."  
  
Sören decided it was worth the risk. "There's something I really want for Christmas."  
  
"Oh?" Geir cocked his head to one side.  
  
Sören looked at Karen, then looked at Geir, and took his arms back, and grabbed each of their hands. "I want both of you... at the same time."  
  
"You mean you... want to have a three-way?" Geir blinked.  
  
"You can say no," Sören added quickly, not wanting them to be uncomfortable, hoping he didn't ruin it with them. "And I mean, I'm not expecting you to do anything with each other..."  
  
"Well, no," Geir said, looking at Karen, and then back at Sören. "But Karen and I are close enough that I don't mind if she sees me with you."  
  
"And Geir and I are close enough that I don't mind if he sees me with you. God knows he's heard us," Karen laughed.  
  
Geir nodded, grinning. He stroked Sören's cheek then. "It could be fun."  
  
"I won't lie, I think the two of you are gorgeous together," Karen said, "and seeing the two of you together would be... very arousing. It doesn't mean I want to..."  
  
"I know," Geir said. "There's a difference between wanting to watch something and..."  
  
"Yeah." Karen nodded.  
  
"Are you guys sure?" Sören couldn't believe it. His heart beat a little faster, his cock throbbing with need. "Like, really sure? I don't want you to feel obligated to say -"  
  
Karen grabbed his curls and kissed him hard, and then Geir kissed him, and as Geir claimed his mouth Kare began to kiss his neck. When Sören and Karen were kissing again, Geir kissed and licked Sören's neck and rubbed the bulge in his trousers.  
  
"Let's go upstairs," Geir husked.


	11. Make the Yuletide Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a followup to this, called [_You Give Me Fever_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288437/). Enjoy. :)

As feverish as they were going upstairs, Sören still insisted on a pause to visit the restroom and clean up before what they were about to do. Karen supposed she should be grateful Sören was concerned about hygiene - natural for a doctor - but she felt ready to climb the walls and they'd barely gotten started. Geirl, sitting on the edge of her bed, noticed her needy anticipation and chuckled.  
  
"Sorry," Karen said.  
  
"No need to be sorry." Geir smiled.  
  
Karen shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "This is all so new to me."  
  
"I take it you've never had a threesome before?"  
  
Karen shook her head. "I've barely had a twosome. I can count the number of lovers I've had on one hand." Karen cocked her head to one side. "Is this your first -"  
  
"No." Geir chuckled again. "The last guy I dated seriously - Hiroshi, the Japanese guy I told you about... he had a side partner, and occasionally he was invited to play with us."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Actually..." Geir turned a little pink. "His side partner, Luca, was submissive. It gave me an outlet to explore my more dominant side."  
  
"Oh!" Karen was a little surprised, but then, her own sexual history had been pretty vanilla.  
  
"Hiroshi taught me the art of Shibari rope bondage, which I practiced on Luca. It's a useful skill, though I haven't played seriously enough with someone since then to have an outlet for it."  
  
Karen chewed on that for a moment and before she could ask the obvious question, Geir said, "Sören hinted that he's been tied up, and there's that one painting he has..."  
  
" _Spirit of Fire._ " Karen remembered it well, where Sören's hands were bound and he was molting with feathers of flame, like an ancient, wild half-man, half-phoenix deity. "He said Anthony called him that." Karen realized then. "Which meant Anthony tied him up."  
  
"I think this breakup has been especially hard for him because, reading between the lines, Anthony was his dom. I don't get the sense they had a formal, full-on lifestyle arrangement but even playing around with BDSM once in awhile, there's a certain amount of heightened intimacy and trust that develops. So being without that..."  
  
Karen ached for Sören even more, knowing what it cost him to be able to let go and trust like that, after being raped in Iceland. It was strange for her to think of Anthony Hewlett-Johnson as kinky, and a BDSM dominant in particular, but then it was also strange for her to think of him being _nice_ to anyone and Sören wouldn't be this hung up on him if he hadn't given Sören reasons to love him.  
  
"So are you going to Shibari tie him?" Karen asked, thinking of what Sören would look like tied up.  
  
"I don't think you have rope, do you? Even if you did, that's a bit elaborate for tonight. But I do think a little light bondage is in order - I think he _needs_ that. Well, you know... if it won't be too weird for you."  
  
Now it was Karen's turn to laugh. "This entire experience is weird to me, but not in a bad way." She bit her lip. "When you say light bondage..."  
  
"Like tying his wrists to the bed while we tease him mercilessly and make him beg."  
  
Karen liked that idea. "I don't have rope but I have a couple of silk scarves, would that work?"  
  
Geir nodded vehemently.  
  
As Karen got out the silk scarves, Geir said, "It'll be up to Sören, ultimately - his choice, not forcing anything on him -"  
  
"No of course not."  
  
"But something tells me he won't say no."  
  
"Won't say no to what?" Sören asked, strolling in completely naked. The plug had been removed from his ass and he set it down on the bedtable.  
  
"A rubber chicken and clowns," Geir said, completely deadpan.  
  
Sören batted his eyelashes. "...Just a rubber chicken and clowns? No monkey suits?"  
  
" _Sören Sigurðsson._ " Karen tried to give him a stern look and failed.  
  
When they calmed down from laughing, Geir said quietly, "Karen and I discussed tying you up. But only if you want -"  
  
Sören's breath hitched and he nodded vehemently, so much so that Karen giggled and Geir laughed too. Sören grinned. "Please. It's been so long..." And then the excited eager puppy-dog look on his face was replaced by wistful sadness. Karen knew Sören was thinking of Anthony again.  
  
Geir held out his arms and Sören came over, and Karen sat on the other side of him. They held him tight, pet and rocked him, at last took turns kissing him. Sören moaned into the kiss and again when Karen took her hair out of its chignon, taking one of Sören's hands to run through her hair. She melted to the way he rubbed her scalp, played with the strands, and laughed with delight at Sören rubbing his nose in the locks, smelling her shampoo.  
  
Then their eyes met. "Neither of you are naked," Sören said. "We should fix that if..."  
  
Karen and Geir glanced over Sören's shoulder. Geir nodded.  
  
Karen got up and stepped out of her shoes, removed all of her clothing. She took off the bangles on her arms. She decided to leave on the necklace Sören gave her, and when she came back over to him he ran his hands over her breasts, stomach, and hips, worship and hunger in his brown eyes. She grabbed him and kissed him hard, feeling consumed by the fire of his passion, and he grabbed her too, kissing her back with all the fire in him. They kissed and kissed until Geir cleared his throat and tugged on Sören's curls, breaking the kiss so Sören could look at him.  
  
Geir was naked too, and erect. Karen thought of Geir as like a brother or other family member, but she couldn't help admiring him now, the sculpted, chiseled male body, like a marble statue - but so powerful, like a force of nature contained in flesh. His cock was as beautiful as the rest of him, and the thought of Sören pleasuring it sent a frisson through her, making her twinge. Karen was eager to see Sören sucking cock, taking a cock inside him, one of her fantasies come to life.  
  
And watching Sören and Geir kiss was aesthetically pleasing to her - beautiful, an incredibly erotic sight in and of itself. Karen shivered at the passion of their kiss, the heat between them, the way they looked in each other's eyes knowingly, wantingly between kisses, their tongues playing together before their mouths met once more, hungry, devouring. Geir's fingers strayed to brush one of Sören's pierced nipples, and rubbed it before tugging on the ring, making Sören moan into the kiss. Their tongues licked again and Geir sucked on Sören's lower lip before claiming his mouth, fiercely kissing Sören as he continued to play with a nipple, pebbling it.  
  
Sören pulled back, breathing hard, and husked, "Please."  
  
Geir looked at Karen, and Karen felt something stir in her, a sort of power - as if Sören calling her a sex goddess awoke something in her. "Not yet," she said, stroking Sören's face. She glanced at Geir and said, "I think he should earn it, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, he should," Geir said, giving Sören a smug, evil little smile.  
  
With that, Karen stood up and she grabbed Sören's curls, forcing him up from the bed. Then she shoved him down on his knees in front of Geir. "Show us how much you want that cock and suck on it."  
  
Sören groaned, and then he did as he was told, diving right in. Watching Sören's full lips wrap around Geir's cock made Karen ache with desire. She sat back down on the bed and couldn't help but touch herself, rubbing her clit in slow, teasing circles as her eyes feasted on the deliciousness of Sören with his mouth full of Geir's cock, sucking hard and fast, greedy for it. Geir played with Sören's curls, moaning, panting.  
  
"How is he?" Karen asked.  
  
"He's good," Geir sighed.  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," Sören said around the cock in his mouth.  
  
Karen watched Sören's head bob up and down, the cock sliding in and out of his mouth, lust in his brown eyes as Geir gasped and shuddered, hands trembling as he pet Sören's curls, grabbed them. Sören deep-throated him, getting as much of it in his mouth as he could - his lack of gag reflex impressed Karen, but then she supposed he'd had a lot of practice. Then after deep-throating him for awhile Sören focused on the head, his hand rubbing the shaft up and down as he sucked and passionately kissed the head of Geir's cock, murmuring "mmmmmm, mmmmmm".  
  
"Oh god, he's using his tongue, too." Geir bit his lip and shook. " _Fuck_ , that's good."  
  
"Mmmmhmmmm." Sören's lips smiled around the cockhead between them, before heat flared in his eyes again and he sucked more insistently.  
  
A few minutes later, Sören took Geir's cock out of his mouth and just licked it, from the head down the shaft and back up, up and down, lashing his tongue over every bit of it, over and over, bathing it, worshiping it. Geir's moans got louder and Karen could hear her own wetness as she found herself stroking her clit harder, faster. Sören's tongue swirled around and around the head of Geir's cock, teasing him, and then Sören's tongue lashed the slit, making a show of streamers of Geir's precum between the cock and his tongue.  
  
Karen reached out her hand, fingers slick with her juices, and Sören paused licking Geir's cock for a moment to suck Karen's fingers, his eyes half-closed with bliss as he tasted her. Then her fingers, wet from his mouth, were back on her clit and Sören's tongue was lapping away at Geir's cock again. Geir groaned and gasped, "Fuck, Sören..."  
  
When Sören took Geir's cock back into his mouth, Geir grabbed Sören's head and began to rock his hips, fucking Sören's mouth. Sören loved that, moaning, reaching down to touch himself, bobbing his head, matching Geir's rhythm, making hungry slurping noises around Geir's cock. Just the sound of Sören slurping at the cock in his mouth threatened to send Karen over the edge and she made herself slow down. "Are you going to come in his mouth?" Karen asked.  
  
"Thinking about it." Geir's voice shook, and he shivered again. "It'll help me last longer when I fuck him."  
  
Sören pulled Geir's cock out of his mouth. "I can't wait to taste you." Then he resumed sucking it, slurping away.  
  
Karen was feeling especially filthy. "I think you should come in his mouth _and_ on that pretty face of his."  
  
"Oooh, I like that idea." Geir grabbed Sören's curls hard. "What do you think, _elskling_?"  
  
"Mmmmm, _mmmmmmmm_ ," Sören pleaded.  
  
The next few minutes felt like an eternity, Karen barely breathing, pawing herself furiously as Geir fucked Sören's mouth and Sören gave it his all, sucking like his life depended on it. Geir's moans got louder and at last he was just panting, giving shuddery gasps, and Karen knew he was getting close. When Geir's eyes locked with Sören's, Geir made a primal, guttural noise, shaking, and Sören's eyes widened before Sören closed them with an "mmmmm, _mmmmmm_ , mmmmhmmmm." With Geir's seed seeping out of the corners of his mouth, Sören swallowed as Geir pulled out, and then Sören moaned as Geir shot ropes of cream over his face and neck.  
  
Geir pulled Sören onto his lap then, kissing Sören deeply, tasting himself in the kiss. Sören turned to Karen and they kissed, and Karen realized she was tasting Geir - salty-sweet, a little tart - and that made her feel closer to him. She and Geir began to lick the cream from Sören's face, with Sören giggling, and then they took turns kissing him. As Karen and Sören kissed, savoring the taste of Geir between them, Geir reached out and touched Karen's face, stroked her hair, and she locked her hand around his wrist, squeezing. Their bond was deeper now, and they both knew it.  
  
Karen was more turned on than she'd ever been in her life, and Sören gave her a pointed look. "Mmmm, I know what you want," Geir said, kissing Sören's neck.  
  
"A pony?" Sören batted his lashes.  
  
Geir and Karen laughed, and then Geir gave Sören's ass a playful swat, making Sören moan. Then Sören husked, "Is it time for me to be tied up now?"  
  
"Not yet." Geir glanced over at Karen. "We can't leave Karen out of the fun, now can we?"  
  
"Of course not." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Karen grabbed Sören's head and lowered it to her breasts. She gasped as his tongue swirled around and around and around an aerole, then lashed a nipple, making it hard and glistening. She moaned as he drew the nipple between his full lips, sucking hard, tugging at it, then she moaned again, louder, as his tongue fluttered over the aching peak. He turned his head to the other, tongue circling around the nipple before rubbing it, suckling it. Back and forth he went, rubbing one nipple with his thumb, pinching, as he lapped and suckled the other. Then their mouths met again, kissing deeply, and Karen pulled him close so her nipples rubbed against his, smiling as she felt Sören shiver, heard him gasp. She reached down to play with his hard cock, her thumb rubbing the slit then down the frenulum, and back up. She tasted his precum from her thumb, and their tongues licked together, open-mouthed. She _wanted_.  
  
"Lay on your back," Karen whispered.  
  
Sören climbed towards the pillows and lay on his back. Karen watched as Geir got on his knees on the floor in front of the foot of the bed, leaning in to play with Sören's hard, dripping cock, stroking slowly. Karen straddled Sören's shoulders, her back to the wall, facing Geir so she could watch what Geir was doing to Sören.  
  
Sören's tongue worked its wicked magic as Geir sucked Sören slowly, Sören's tongue brushing around Karen's aching, sensitized clit. When Geir sucked Sören harder and faster, Sören drew Karen's clit between his lips, sucking it, and Karen started to bounce on his face, fucking herself, Sören moaning, making sipping, slurping noises. When Geir slipped two fingers inside Sören, rocking in and out, Sören's fingers entered her wetness and a moment later Karen had her first climax, crying out, shuddering. Sören's tongue brushed her contracting mound over and over, giving her aftershocks. Then Geir took Sören's cock out of his mouth and began licking it all over, up and down the shaft, around and around the head, and Karen reached down to part her folds so Sören could get back to work. Sören's tongue lashed her furiously, keeping the pace with Geir's tongue on his cock. Watching Sören's precum on Geir's tongue drove Karen wild, and when Sören's cock disappeared into Geir's mouth again Karen had another climax.  
  
Geir sucked Sören's cock as Sören sucked Karen's clit to a third climax, and then Geir took Sören's cock out of his mouth again, tongue lashing and lashing, and Karen watched as Geir parted Sören's legs and propped them on his shoulders, pushing his tongue inside Sören. After a few licks Geir rasped, "Tongue fuck her too," and Sören did as he was commanded, tongue spearing inside Karen, rubbing her G-spot. Karen grabbed onto Sören for dear life, bucking against his tongue, and Sören took her clit between his index and middle fingers, pinching slightly, fucking it. Karen screamed as another orgasm shocked through her, making her toes curl.  
  
They weren't done yet. Geir continued eating Sören and now Sören's tongue was on her clit again, exquisitely sensitive from the delicious fucking of his fingers. Sören got her close to another orgasm and slowed down, as Geir's tongue slowed inside him. With his lips on her clit again, sucking, Karen came again, high-pitched noises that were almost squeals coming out of her as the pleasure throbbed, so intense she could barely stand it.  
  
"I need this arse," Geir rasped, getting up.  
  
Karen climbed down and Geir told Sören, "On your stomach."  
  
Karen got back on the bed, scooting towards the head, and she spread her legs. Sören lay on his stomach with his head between Karen's legs, and Geir grabbed the lube Sören had brought, coating his cock and pouring it into Sören's open, ready channel. With Sören's tongue on her clit, Karen watched as Geir began to push inside Sören, and when he was all the way inside Sören gasped and Karen did too, indescribably turned on by the sight of Geir buried to the hilt inside Sören. Geir started to thrust, neither going slow nor going too fast, not yet, and after a few thrusts Sören gave the most delicious whimper, fisting the pillows. He started rocking his hips back at Geir. Watching Geir's cock plunge in and out of Sören, and Sören's perfect bubble butt jiggling as he worked his hips, fucking himself, listening to him whimper, loving it, sent Karen into another climax, crying out.  
  
Geir kept fucking Sören, and Karen watched the look on Sören's face, pupils blown wide, lips parted, panting, gasping for breath, every now and again closing his eyes a little and moaning. She got worked up again between the sight of Geir's cock fucking in and out of him and Sören's pleasure in being fucked, and grabbed his head. Sören mashed his face into her, slurping, sucking on her hard, shaking his head as he sucked, tugging on her with her lips, fucking her with his mouth, and soon Karen had another climax, electrifying, feeling her juices gush. Sören sipping at them, groaning, rocking his hips back at Geir even harder drove Karen crazy and she grabbed his face and just started fucking his face, rocking her hips madly, gratified by the sound of Sören moaning into her. His fingers played inside her again and the sound of her wetness filled the room, accompanied by the slap of Geir's hips against Sören, Geir's balls slapping Sören's from behind. Geir fucked Sören harder, and as Karen noticed Geir getting closer, moaning and grunting, Sören made tormented little whimpers into her, shaking.  
  
Sören picked his head up, panting. "Please."  
  
"Don't you dare come yet," Geir growled.  
  
Karen grabbed Sören's head again and his submissive torment, the fingers inside her and the lips pulling on her clit sent her into yet another orgasm, screaming. Geir came too, throwing his head back and crying out, trembling. Sören gave a long, frustrated howl and looked ready to break down and cry with how much he needed to come.  
  
Karen needed to recharge a little, and she knew Sören's jaw probably needed a break. She climbed down and smiled at the sight of Sören's face and beard glistening with her juices, the way he licked his lips, savoring her. "I think it's time to tie him up," Karen told Geir.  
  
"I think you're right." Geir nodded.  
  
Karen kissed him, twinging again as she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. Sören gave her a pleading look and she laughed, tousling his curls.  
  
Karen and Geir each got a silk scarf and came towards the bed. They each reached out and stroked his face and pet his curls in turn, and Geir husked, "If we do anything you don't want, you tell us, OK?"  
  
Sören nodded, and smiled at them with such love and trust in his eyes that it brought tears to Karen's own.  
  
 _He is giving us a gift._  
  
Karen watched Geir tie Sören's right wrist to the headboard, wanting to learn from his example - even though she'd tied plenty of knots before, she'd never tied a person. Geir had Sören test the bond to see whether it was too tight, and when he said it was fine, Karen took a deep breath, grabbed Sören's left arm and tied his left wrist to the headboard. When the knot was secure, she had him test the restraint and he nodded.  
  
Karen and Geir looked at each other, then climbed on the bed, on either side of him. Geir tilted Sören's face towards him and kissed him, then Karen kissed Sören. They took turns kissing him, and a few kisses later, Geir began to kiss, lick and nibble Sören's neck and shoulder as Sören and Karen kissed, tongues teasing, playing, and then Karen kissed Sören's neck as Sören and Geir kissed. Their hands roamed over Sören's body, Karen's palm rubbing Sören's stomach and hip and thigh in slow, lazy circles as Geir played with a nipple, then Karen plucked and pinched a nipple and tugged on a nipple ring as Geir's fingers brushed over Sören's chest and stomach and hip and thigh, back up over the seam of his crotch, making Sören quiver and moan into the kiss.  
  
When they both kissed his neck, Sören moaned and arched to them, panting. "Oh god, please," Sören moaned, and gave a little whimper that made Karen twinge, dripping again for him.  
  
Their kisses trailed lower, and Geir's eyes met Karen's before their tongues lashed both his nipples. Sören howled and bucked against them. "Oh god. Oh god oh god..." Sören shivered, and bit his lip, moaning.  
  
When they sucked both his nipples at the same time, Sören cried out, and then he made high-pitched whimpering whines that Karen found adorable and delicious. They sucked his nipples harder, teased the sensitive peaks with their tongues before suckling some more, pulling on them with their lips. "Oh, _fuck_!" Sören writhed against the restraints, and whimpered; Karen looked down and saw precum gush down his shaft. "Oh god. Fuck me, please... please, fuck me and let me come..." Sören begged with his eyes, not just his voice.  
  
Karen stroked his face and nibbled his nipple, and then Geir nibbled the other. Sören cried out again, cock jolting, dripping. Geir dove down to chase the precum with his tongue, lapping and lapping, and then he came back up, laughing softly as he tugged a nipple ring with his teeth. Karen saw Geir's hand playing with Sören's cock and then his precum-slick fingers anointed one nipple, then the other. They suckled Sören's nipples together again, tasting his precum, and Sören bucked, whimpering, trembling, gasping.  
  
"Please. _Please._ Fuck me. Dammit, fuck me..." Sören bit his lip and whined. " _Fuck me!_ "  
  
They continued to lick and suckle his nipples, and when Karen leaned over him and rubbed one of her nipples against his, Sören bit his lip, whimpering, almost sobbing with frustration. Karen smiled demurely and gave him a kiss before she slid back down to draw his swollen nipple into her mouth.  
  
They let up after awhile and kissed and licked the rest of him - stomach, hips, thighs. Then Geir began to lick the head of Sören's cock and Karen's tongue rubbed the shaft, lashing, teasing, feeling herself dripping at the wild look in Sören's eyes, the way he gasped for breath, the way he whimpered and bucked. When Geir's tongue traced lower, Karen came up to lick around and around the head, Geir's tongue lashing up and down the shaft. Then both their tongues were on the head of his cock, and on the shaft, and back up, and back down, and back up, and Sören screamed, keening. "Oh, _god_! Please! Please, I beg you, fuck me. _Fuck me!_ Have mercy on me and let me fucking come..."  
  
Geir looked at Karen and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, should we be nice to him?"  
  
"I think we can give him a break," Karen said.  
  
After a few last licks at Sören's cock, they came up and took turns kissing him, sharing his precum with him, as they untied his wrists. Geir sat up and pulled Sören onto his lap, reverse cowboy, so Sören was facing Karen. With Geir's arms around Sören, he began to thrust and Sören bounced, riding. Karen took a moment to appreciate the sight of Sören riding Geir's cock, Geir's hands sliding over Sören's body, before she came closer on her knees, and slowly impaled herself on Sören's hard cock.  
  
Geir and Karen held Sören, and each other, as Geir thrust into Sören and Karen rocked her hips, riding Sören's cock as Sören bounced on Geir. They found a delicious rhythm together, three voices crying out in turn and then in unison. Karen once again felt incredibly close to Geir, sharing this experience with him, arms around each other as they held Sören safe between them, comforting him, taking away the sting of his loss for just a little while, replacing it with pleasure.  
  
With ecstasy. Karen loved the look on Sören's face, lust and ecstasy and wonder, completely lost in passion. She loved hearing him moan, the filthy sweet sounds of their bodies slapping together, her wetness and the wetness of Sören's well-lubricated-and-seeded passage. As the three of them rocked together, getting closer to orgasm, panting and trembling, Karen and Sören began to kiss, tongues licking together open-mouthed between kisses, and Geir stroked her hair as if to say _thank you for sharing this with me._  
  
When Karen's nipples rubbed against Sören's again it drove Sören wild, bucking on top of Geir harder, thrusting into Karen faster. Karen grabbed onto him for dear life, knuckles white, and she heard herself cry out into a kiss as Sören's fingers dipped between her legs, rubbing her clit. Between the sweetness of the ring in Sören's cock on her G-spot, and his skilled fingers working her clit, it didn't take long for Karen to climax, calling out "Sören, _Sören_ , yes, yes..." and as she clamped down on him, clenching, pulsing, Sören threw his head back and gave a long, deep moan, quivering. A few thrusts later and Geir grabbed Sören tighter and took one last hard thrust, groaning, shaking. Geir tilted Sören's head to his so they could kiss, and panted together before they kissed again.  
  
They found their way back onto the pillows and Sören lay sandwiched between them, their arms and legs tangled together. For a few minutes they just snuggled, pulsing in the lovely glow of orgasm, and then Sören took turns kissing them. What started off as sweet, tender little kisses deepened, heated, and Sören gave Karen a pleading look and a little whimper.  
  
Karen chuckled as she kissed him again and pulled a nipple ring. "Insatiable."  
  
"Oh, does he need to come again?" Now Geir was kissing the back of Sören's neck and his shoulder, making Sören moan. When Geir nibbled the sweet spot where Sören's neck and shoulder met, there was a fierce look in his eye and Karen knew Geir meant business. As many orgasms as she'd had, she felt herself start again.  
  
Karen rolled onto her back and pulled Sören atop her. She guided his cock into her and then wrapped her arms around him, kissing him again and again as Sören thrust into her slowly, sweetly, languid and sensual. Karen arched to him, moaning, as he kissed and licked her throat down to her breasts, tongue swirling around an aerole, lashing the nipple, sucking hard and brushing feather-light, circling around the nipple some more before his tongue rubbed it fast and furious, then he turned his head to the other, lapping and suckling, fingers and thumb pinching and rubbing the nipple his mouth had just been on. Karen's nails dug into Sören's back and she rolled her hips back at him, urging him on faster inside her.  
  
Karen watched as Geir got behind Sören, and Sören gasped as Geir began to kiss the back of his neck again. Then, with Geir's teeth on his nape, Sören shuddered, eyes rolling and fluttering, and Karen knew Geir was taking Sören from behind. Sören moaned, pausing, and Geir groaned.  
  
Geir tilted Sören's face to his and their tongues played, an erotic sight that brought Karen closer to that edge of orgasm. She loved Sören's slow thrusts inside her, the fullness of him rubbing slowly, the delicious dragging motion of that ring in his cock within her sensitized walls. Watching Sören and Geir kiss and rub their tongues together, Geir's hips slowly pushing and pulling against Sören's, knowing Geir was fucking Sören the same way Sören was fucking her... Karen shuddered and moaned. She lost herself in the beauty of them kissing, the look of pleasure on Sören's face, the way he moaned.  
  
Then after awhile Geir began to rock against Sören harder, faster. "Fuck her like I'm fucking you," Geir rasped and claimed Sören's mouth hard and hungry. Sören whimpered into the kiss and did as he was told, thrusting into Karen harder. Karen whimpered too and rocked back at him.  
  
Soon they were fucking wildly, three voices crying out, mattress squeaking, headboard rocking against the wall, the slap of their flesh competing with their cries. Sören leaned in to kiss Karen, his fingers playing with her clit, and then he was kissing Geir again, back and forth between his lovers. Karen whined when she saw Geir's hands reach around and he played with Sören's nipples, flicking, rubbing, pinching, pulling, and Sören whimpered, rocking into Karen even harder. Geir's hips slapped against Sören's mercilessly, Geir growling as he nibbled and licked the back of Sören's neck.  
  
"That's it," Geir whispered. "Show us how much you want this. How much you need it..."  
  
"Oh god, I need it so bad." Sören shivered and bit his lip, whimpering.  
  
"You're ours now." Geir's teeth nipped Sören's shoulder.  
  
"Oh god, yes, yes yes, I'm yours, I'm yours..." Sören pounded into Karen as Geir pounded into him, Sören's high-pitched whine of pleasure met by Geir's deep grunt and Karen's hoarse shout.  
  
"I'm so close," Karen panted, grabbing Sören's hand as his fingers worked her clit harder, faster in time with his thrusts.  
  
" _Elskan._ " Their eyes met and Sören gave a shuddery gasp. "Oh _elskan_ , I want to make you come again..."  
  
"Make her come," Geir commanded, grabbing Sören's hair, fucking him savagely. He grit his teeth and ground out, "Make her come so fucking hard..."  
  
Karen lost control, her body giving into one final climax, the entire world seeming to explode. "Oh, _fuck!_ Yes, yes, _yes_..."  
  
Sören gave in as he felt her contractions squeezing his cock. "Karen. _Karen._ " Sören shuddered. "Geir!"  
  
Geir gave a few final, brutal thrusts before he collapsed onto Sören's back, trembling, groaning deeply. "Oh, Sören. Oh _god_ Sören..."  
  
" _Fuck._ " Sören shook, fingers curling, kicking his legs like he was swimming - Karen saw his toes curling. Sören began to laugh uncontrollably, like he was high. "Fuck. Fuuuuuuck."  
  
Karen laughed too, giggles bubbling out of her, wild euphoria as if she'd just gotten off an amusement park ride. "Oh, Sören."  
  
Sören kissed each of them in turn and their arms were around him again, holding him tight, sheltering him, rocking him.  
  
"You're safe with us," Geir whispered. "You're safe with your family."  
  
Sören broke, sobbing - laughing and crying. Karen got choked up too, pulling him closer, kissing his tears as her own flowed. Then she felt Geir's thumb, wiping her tears, and when she looked over Sören's shoulder she saw Geir's brilliant blue eyes were too bright. Geir took her hand and squeezed.  
  
Sören cried it out, and when the tears subsided, they pet him, Sören's face snuggled into Karen's shoulder. She watched as Sören seemed to drift off to sleep, and soon the warm afterglow became warm, soothing darkness.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They were woken up by the alarm, and Sören swearing in Icelandic as he tore out of bed and ran off to the bathroom. When he got back in the bedroom Karen squinted her eyes open and watched him pull on his scrubs.  
  
"We'll see you after work tonight, yes?" Karen asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm free at four."  
  
Geir made a noise, and then he mumbled, "We could pick you up at National."  
  
"I'd like that," Sören said. Then Sören hesitated, finishing up his dressing more slowly, and he gave them a pointed look. "Thank you for last night."  
  
"Thank _you,_ " Geir said.  
  
"Mmmf." Karen nodded weakly. She laughed as she recalled all the deliciousness. "That was some of the best sex of my life."  
  
"There's more where that came from, hopefully," Sören said.  
  
"Much more," Geir said, nodding.  
  
Sören leaned in and gave them both quick kisses and then he was off.  
  
Though Karen was usually a morning person - the very opposite of Sören in that regard - she couldn't find it in her to get out of bed and start the day just yet. She felt lazy, perfectly content to just lay there and bask in that warm, glowy feeling leftover from last night.  
  
Now Geir moved closer to her, to take the spot Sören had vacated before it became unpleasantly cold. Though they were both naked, Geir pulled her close and held her against him, and Karen welcomed it, holding him.  
  
"I had fun," Geir said.  
  
"I did too." Karen blinked and their eyes met. "So it wasn't weird for you..."  
  
"You know, before Sören came along, if you'd asked me to share a guy before now it would have been weird. But this is... different somehow. Like... it felt right." Geir let go of Karen for a moment to demonstrate, meshing his fingers together. Then he resumed holding Karen. "I'm still gay -"  
  
"Hi Still Gay."  
  
Geir swatted Karen and laughed, and Karen giggled, squeezing him.  
  
Then Geir stroked her face, meeting her eyes. "But I had fun sharing him. Dominating him with you."  
  
"I liked that even more than I thought I would." Karen's breath hitched as she remembered. "The two of you are... gorgeous together. Delicious."  
  
"Well... we'll have to do that again once in awhile." Geir nodded, smiling. "Think of new, inventive ways to torture him."  
  
Karen giggled. "I like the way you think."  
  
Geir looked like he was lost in thought for a moment, and then Karen finally prompted him with "Hm?"  
  
"Oh, just..." Geir chuckled. He raised an eyebrow. "You ever pegged a guy before?"  
  
"...Pegged?"  
  
"I guess not." Geir laughed harder, cheeks pink. He explained to her, "Fucked a guy in the ass with a strap-on dildo."  
  
"Oh. Oh god... no."  
  
"I get the feeling Sören would like that a lot, if you fucked him, and especially if the three of us were playing together and you fucked him while he sucked me."  
  
The mental image of that threatened to make Karen horny again, but she was too wonderfully drained from last night. "Mmmm, that would be fun."  
  
"We'll have to go toy shopping sometime, the three of us." Geir snickered. "Maybe for Boxing Day."  
  
"Can you imagine having to explain that to Nicholas, though?"  
  
Geir's laughter rang out. "Oh _god._ " He facepalmed, then pulled his hand away, turning beetroot, teeth flashing in a wicked grin. "It would be bad enough if he finds out the two of us have..."  
  
"Yeah." Karen's face was on fire now, too. "He knows we're both dating him but..."  
  
"...It's another thing entirely for us to, well, share him."  
  
" _As you know._ " Karen couldn't resist.  
  
" _As you know._ "  
  
They laughed together and then Geir said, "By the way. Speaking of Nicholas..."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Geir smirked. "I think Sören likes him."  
  
"Well, I should hope Sören likes him, considering he's our adopted dad and we spend so much time over his flat -"  
  
"No, I mean..." Geir raised an eyebrow again. " _Likes him_ likes him. Like, that way."  
  
Karen's jaw dropped and she let that sink in. "You mean he fancies him?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Has he... has he said anything to you?"  
  
"No," Geir said, "but you know how I've told you my gaydar is really good? I can also usually tell when people have the hots for each other, and... there's little clues here and there. Like Sören's gift for Nicholas was a bit -"  
  
"It was very generous," Karen said, "but Sören seems like a very generous, caring person."  
  
"If it were just that I wouldn't necessarily think anything of it. But Sören hates wearing suits, and he wore one when Nicholas said he thought Sören would look dapper. Sören had this _look_ on his face when Nicholas said it, like there were gears turning in his head. And the way he looks at Nicholas, like he's checking him out. And then there's..." Geir started laughing, doubling over. "Oh god, Karen. Oh god."  
  
"What?"  
  
" _Dod-dee._ " Geir imitated Sören's accent.  
  
"Oh, it's cute when Sören calls him Daddy."  
  
"Well... in queer male culture, that term tends to be reserved for older men you want to fuck." Geir laughed harder. "It's probably gone right over Nicholas's head - poor man, so late to the party - but I caught it."  
  
"Oh. My. _God._ " Karen felt _almost_ scandalized, and she had a gigglefit, her sides and face hurting. "Oh my god. _Really._ "  
  
"I shit you not, Karen. You can Google it later."  
  
"I feel so sheltered."  
  
"Don't worry, Sören and I will corrupt you in no time."  
  
"I'm already pretty corrupt," Karen said, gesturing to the silk scarves near the bed. "As you know."  
  
Geir's face lit up with a grin. "Hi Already Pretty Corrupt -"  
  
Karen gave him a shove and then she tweaked his nose. Geir tweaked hers back before he mussed her hair. Then he kissed her forehead.  
  
"So what are we going to do about this..." Karen couldn't believe she was saying it aloud. "Sören... liking... Nicholas."  
  
"Nothing, right now," Geir said. "I'm _pretty sure_ Sören has a crush on him, it's something I'd be willing to bet money on, but I think it's probably too soon yet to tell Sören we know, or try to, ah, nudge it along. Well... provided nudging it along wouldn't be weird for you -"  
  
Karen shook her head. "If Nicholas was my biological father that would be one thing, but I knew going into this that we were going to have an open relationship and Sören would be seeing men, too. So long as I still get some time with him I'm fine with it. And besides... better it be Nicholas than someone less, ah... principled."  
  
Geir nodded. "I feel the same way. I'd like to see Dad happy, honestly. But..." Geir sighed. "That might take some work."  
  
"And some time, likely. He only met Sören just a few days ago."  
  
"But there's something about Sören, it draws you in right away."  
  
"It did for me." Karen nodded.  
  
"And me too." Geir also nodded. "Like a moth to a flame."  
  
"Well..." Karen stroked Geir's face and snuggled closer to him. "I'm glad we get to share this together. It makes me feel closer to you."  
  
"Me too. Close and cozy. Like he left the fire going for us to curl up to."  
  
With that, Geir pulled Karen into his chest, stroking her hair idly, and in the sweet safety of Geir's arms her eyes got heavy, her body leaden and weightless all at once, slipping back into the warm darkness of sleep as church bells rang in the distance.


End file.
